She Didn't Come Home Alone
by ecv
Summary: Brennan brought a man back with her from Maluku.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I took this story down since the finale due to some rather unhappy reactions to the premise. However, since that time, several people have emailed me asking that I repost it. For those of you that did enjoy it, it is thanks to them that I have decided to continue and finish it._

 _You did not miss any updates. I have decided to post it in several larger chunks._

 _If you enjoyed the story, I hope you continue to do so. If you didn't the first time, don't bother starting it over hoping I changed something, I didn't._

 _As usual, I don't own Bones._

 _After Brennan writes two letters Booth didn't respond to, she comes home from Maluku with a new man in her life._

Brennan waited near the coffee cart, two cups of coffee on the bench next to her. She was still, burying any signs of nervousness beneath a cool exterior. There was nothing to be nervous about, after all. She was simply there to meet an old friend, one she hadn't seen in eight months. They would hug, they would talk about what they'd done during their time apart, and life would continue as it always had.

Except it wouldn't. Nothing would be the same between them. Brennan knew that, even if she didn't want to acknowledge it. There was simply no chance, no variable she could change, that would make everything the same.

Eight months. Not much more than a blip on the graph in a scientific timeline. Eight months on a dig that was supposed to help answer questions about human evolution. She would have been at the forefront of the investigation, many discoveries would be credited to her name, it would have helped make the whole thing worth leaving everything behind.

If the discoveries had actually come. But they hadn't. All that had come was disappointment, followed by anger, when the funding had been pulled four months before the excavation was supposed to end. With nothing left to work on, and no money with which to do it with, Brennan and the rest of the team she'd spent the last eight months with had returned home.

She'd been home almost a week now. Cam expected her back at work the next morning, her office was ready for her, Angela and Hodgins had returned from Paris when they'd heard Brennan was back. It had taken a week to clean out the Lab to reform the group. The entire team was back together and Brennan had to admit, she was looking forward to getting back to a career she thought she might be done with a year ago.

Except for one, crucial member of that team. He was expected to return today. And his first stop was supposed to be this coffee cart, to meet Brennan, just as they had promised.

Picking up the coffee, she took a sip, just to give her hands something to do. Her feelings about seeing Booth again were all tangled up with the feelings she'd had about walking away from him. And then everything that had come, or hadn't come during the last eight months.

He'd told her things had to change and she'd followed his advice. For the last eight months, whenever she struggled to make a choice, she remembered those words. Things had to change, so she'd changed them. Booth had been the catalyst in more ways than one.

Had that been his intention, when he hadn't responded to the letters she'd sent? Was that how he'd forced her to make changes, by giving her no other choice? Brennan had no intention of asking him, because she didn't want the truth of those answers. Her own conclusions were hard enough to live with.

Turning her head slowly, Brennan scanned the crowd gathering near the coffee cart. Booth had promised he'd be here and he wasn't one to break promises, so she continued to wait. And watch. A part of her was terrified she wouldn't recognize him, or that he wouldn't recognize her. Change was inevitable, and for Brennan, unavoidable, during the past year. She'd crushed her own heart, muscles couldn't be broken, then Booth had crushed it a second time. It wasn't whole yet, but she was trying.

Unwillingly, her thoughts drifted back to that night almost a year ago, outside of Sweets' office. Booth had asked her to take a chance on them, but she didn't. At the time, felt she couldn't. It had been a mistake, one she'd regretted more as each day passed. But she hadn't been ready to face what that meant, wasn't ready to tie her happiness to another person.

Her decision, her words, had driven a wedge between them that had finally forced the separation. That, and the sudden overwhelming need to escape the death and mayhem that had begun to haunt her every time she closed her eyes. Requiring a break, Brennan accepted a position that took her halfway around the world. Too terrified to discuss it with him, unable to put her feelings into words, she'd allowed him to leave.

The mistake was clear to her only a week into the excavation. Not in signing up to go to Maluku, but in not telling him her feelings while she had the chance.

So she'd done the only thing she felt she could at the time. Brennan wrote him a letter. Then waited. First a week and then a second. When she didn't get a response, a second letter followed the first. And when no response came for a second time, Brennan knew she needed to move on.

Booth obviously had. His lack of response made that clear.

Not far from where she sat, a couple embraced casually and Brennan looked at them for a long time. They looked happy, even to her. The man causally threw an arm over the woman's shoulders as they headed off to her left. It could have been her and Booth, a year ago. Even six months ago.

Not anymore.

His lack of response had made it clear he no longer harbored any of the feelings he'd spoken of. That had crushed her already damaged heart almost to oblivion, but as she always had in the past, Brennan managed to pick up the pieces and start over again.

Strong enough now to admit his rejection had hurt, Brennan fought the urge to sigh at the memory. Her own rejection had apparently closed that door for the two of them and there was no reopening it. Despite the pain, so terrible it had threatened to rip her in half, Brennan had buried the hurt and thrown herself into her work. She tried to escape by being alone.

Except people weren't so easily dissuaded. Booth had shown her she was a good person, that she deserved to be loved, and she came to the conclusion that she wouldn't close herself off again. Brennan regretted turning Booth down and refused to miss a chance at happiness, at love, for a second time. If Booth no longer wanted her, no longer loved her, surely there was someone else out there who would.

Which had proven to be much harder than she thought. It was easy to date, to talk, to laugh, to have sex with a man. It was a lot harder to fall in love again, especially when she compared her partner to Booth. She found herself doing just that more frequently than she liked.

She spotted him first and immediately her heart beat faster. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down the reaction, struggling to understand what it could mean. Surely, it was nothing more than excitement at seeing her good friend again. It could mean nothing else, as that part of her life was over.

"Booth!" she cried, getting to her feet and waving a hand in his direction. He turned immediately and she gave him a welcoming, if guarded smile. When his own face lit up, she was helpless to stop the larger smile that appeared.

"Bones," he greeted, dropping his bag to envelope her in a hug. Brennan let it go on for what she considered an appropriate time before she pulled away from him and stepped out of his reach. His eyes narrowed at her, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he reached for a cup of coffee. "I'm assuming one of these is mine?"  
As he took a sip, she ran her eyes down his figure and back up again, rapidly analyzing what she saw. More muscle mass, no obvious wounds, same brown eyes and shorter hair she determined quickly. It was a relief to know he'd come home unscathed, no matter what had happened between them.

Could she say the same about herself? The wounds were not where anyone could see them, but they were there. They were buried deep, but Brennan feared that under the right circumstances, they would bleed as much as they had the first time.

Metaphorically, emotions sucked.

Over the rim of the cup, he watched her eyes travel up and down him. And watched as they clouded over before they cleared again. "I'm fine, Bones," he said with a smile, pleased to see she was still interested in his well-being. "Sit down and tell me how your dig went."

"I met someone," she blurted out as she sat, not looking up at his face. That wasn't how she intended to tell him, but it seemed Brennan still had no skill at keeping secrets from him. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus on his face, instead of his feet. "The dig was a disaster," she added.

Booth hadn't expected those words, much less prepared himself for them. Happy he'd swallowed that first drink of coffee, he slowly pulled the cup away from his lips and took a much closer look at the woman in front of him. She was staring at him in the direct way she had, waiting for him to say something, he knew. But the words wouldn't come.

"A disaster, huh?" he echoed, focusing on the only words he wanted to think about, but he was helpless to stop himself from going back to the others. "Couldn't have been too much of a disaster if you met someone there."

His brown eyes, so welcoming only several minutes before, were shadowed as he looked at her. She licked her lips as she waited for some sort of reaction. "He's a member of the team I worked with," she said nervously to fill the sudden silence.

"How long?" Booth managed to choke out, the styrofoam cup beginning to crumple in his fist. Looking down at her, he forced himself to focus on her words, and not on the heart that was attempting to pound its way out of his chest.

"A couple months," she said softly, wondering why he seemed so angry. The emotion was strong in him for her to read it so easily, but Brennan felt he had no right to it. He hadn't responded to her attempt to patch things up with him, not once, but twice. He'd told her he had to move on that night and clearly, he had. Shouldn't she be allowed to do the same?

Booth nodded at her answer and forced himself to take a second sip of the suddenly bitter coffee. Five years he'd attempted to maneuver his way further into his life, he'd practically begged her to take a chance with him and only six months after separating, she was dating someone else? Clearly, it hadn't been about not wanting to risk the friendship. It had been about not wanting him.

He'd entertained hope, for eight long months, that when he came back she would be ready. He'd turned down numerous offers, checked the mail every day for a message from her, and prayed each night that when he finally saw her again, things would be different for them.

Things were definitely going to be different. It appeared his prayers had been answered. As a joke, this one sucked.

"I'm happy for you," he said. Moving away from her, he threw the drink into the nearest trash can, taking time to settle himself before turning back to her.

"I am happy," she agreed quickly. Brennan thought she was happy. Felt happy each time she got to spend time with Craig, her new boyfriend. But now that Booth was in front of her, she couldn't help but wonder what might have been, even though such speculation was useless. "Did you meet anyone?" she asked shyly as he turned back around.

"A few people," Booth shrugged, finally sitting on the bench next to her. The skin of her arm was warm from the sun. He could feel the heat radiating from it. Their hands rested next to each other and Booth pulled his a little closer to his leg, fingers curled around the bench, the skin white from the force of his grip. It was the only thing keeping him steady. "No one special."

"I worried about you," Brennan said, turning her head to look at him. His face in profile looked just as she remembered and Brennan was a little concerned that she still found it attractive. Was it okay to notice him this way when she was with someone else? Reaching up, she brushed at the bangs she'd had cut into her hair recently. She didn't really care for them, but Craig liked them, so for the moment, they were staying.

Acknowledging her comment with a nod, Booth didn't face her, choosing instead to stare off into the distance. This wasn't how he'd imagined it, wasn't what he'd dreamed about when home had seemed so far away. He'd hoped, after time apart, they might be able to start down a different path. One that eventually led to them being together. Even in his nightmares, he'd never imagined she would bring someone home with her. "I'm fine," he said again, despite the fact he wasn't. His entire body felt raw, bruised. The bench was beginning to cut into his palm from the force of his grip and he focused on the pain in his hands, rather than the pain in his chest.

"Did he come back with you?" Booth heard himself ask. He was having an out of body experience. He could hear himself, see himself, but someone else was running his body. It couldn't be him, sitting there asking questions so calmly, when all he wanted to do was shake her while he screamed.

"He's staying in a hotel right now," Brennan said, "at least for the next few weeks. I wanted him to make sure it was the right move before he made any permanent decisions."

It was wrong, she'd done it all wrong. She'd meant to introduce Craig to people slowly, give him time to adjust to the various people that were important to her. Instead, the person whose reaction meant the most to her, the person who'd secretly done background checks on some of her previous boyfriends, was mad at her less than an hour after seeing her again.

And he had no right. He hadn't responded to her letters. She'd made a mistake. Spelled it out in a letter without using scientific terms to explain what she'd felt. Her fears and her hopes were in not one, but two letters that had meant so little to him that he couldn't even find the time to write back.

Booth could see her out of the corner of his eye, pressing her lips together, a sure sign of annoyance. He knew she was angry with him, but couldn't see a way around that. He hadn't expected to have the rug pulled out in front of him as soon as he arrived back in the city.

"I'm tired, Bones," he said finally. "I'm going to go back to my apartment." He got to his feet and looked down at her. "I plan on being back to work tomorrow." He had to get out of here, get away from her. This time, Booth knew he was the one who was running.

Who could blame him? He'd heard of other soldiers who'd come home to find empty houses, rather than the wife or girlfriend they'd expected. Bones wasn't either to him, but Booth imagined the feeling was similar.

Could they even work together anymore, Brennan wondered. At that moment, it didn't seem possible. She didn't totally understand what was happening, but something was. She couldn't figure it out, couldn't analyze her way out of it, and it confused her. "I'll be at the Jeffersonian. You can find me there."

Not responding either way, he turned sharply on his heel, retrieved his bag, and walked away without looking back. She watched him until she could no longer see him, finally rising to throw away the coffee she'd barely touched.


	2. Chapter 2

"How'd your meeting with your old friend go?" Craig asked her when he arrived at her apartment that evening. He'd seen the place briefly the day before and continued to be impressed at the items she'd collected over the years. Curiously, he picked up a representation of a fertility goddess and waved it in front of her. "Should I be worried?" he joked.

The look she gave him was so horrified, that he quickly put the figure down and laughed nervously. "Just kidding, Temperance. I remember that you don't want children."

They'd had that discussion, one of many, when she'd finally opened up to him a little back in Maluku. There had been very little privacy among the tents, and they'd done nothing but talk, but if asked, Craig would admit he still knew very little about the woman who stood in front of him.

She had a way of avoiding questions she was uncomfortable with, often by refusing to answer them at all. He'd quickly learned which topics to avoid and which could be safely discussed. Science was always safe. Her past before he'd met her, not so much.

And since he'd only met her eight months ago, that meant what he knew about her was ridiculously small. Her family? No go there, other than the fact she had an older brother and her father was still alive. Her childhood? Definitely off limits. The topic change had been so fast after a simple question in that direction, Craig was sure he'd gotten whiplash.

He did know she worked at the top institution in the country and was paired with an FBI agent. A quick search when he'd returned to the states made it clear just how successful that partnership had been, but not once had she mentioned it or the partner when they'd been back on Maluku.

Eventually, her lack of sharing would put a serious damper on their relationship. For the moment, it would something Craig was willing to deal with.

There was no set point he could define when they went from friends to a couple. It seemed after she began to talk to him, most of the other members of the team had assumed that's what had taken place and neither he nor Temperance had done anything to change their minds.

Craig was sure, after learning a little bit about her, that Temperance didn't even notice the talk going on around them. She had a way of pushing away the world around her, until it almost didn't exist. So perhaps, it was better to say that he hadn't done anything to stop the talk.

Despite the location, they'd even managed to find some alone time once or twice, but no more than that. And even during those times, she'd refused any of his more romantic advances. He fervently hoped that situation would improve now that they were back in DC. Surely, their connection would grow if they could spend more time together, now that she was home.

Except they'd been back a week and nothing was changing. He'd yet to persuade her to spend any serious alone time with him, other than the occasional dinner. After a week, he was sick of living in a hotel and needed to find a job. He needed to decide if this relationship had any potential, otherwise it was time for him to move on.

"You are correct," she said coolly. "I have not changed my opinion on the matter. I don't feel that I have the instincts to be a good mother." When Craig didn't say anything to disagree, Brennan couldn't stop herself from comparing him to Booth. Booth would have argued with that statement. Booth never let her put herself down like that.

Than she chastised herself for doing something like that to begin with.

In her kitchen, she stirred a pot of sauce she'd prepared after her meeting with Booth. It had given her overwhelmed mind something to focus on, rather than the muddled emotions that swirled in her head. "I wasn't aware you wanted children," she said finally, softening her voice slightly. She needed to focus on the man currently in her apartment, not the one taking up so much space in her head.

It was the closest they'd come to a personal conversation since the two of them had arrived back in the states. "Maybe someday," Craig shrugged. "But not right now."

Brennan nodded, but she was only half listening, her mind continuing to drift back to Booth. She hadn't expected the meeting to go that way. Certain aspects were to be expected, Brennan hadn't supposed the whole thing would be comfortable, but she didn't expect to feel guilty.

Hurting him had been the last thing she wanted to do, but it was apparent she had. But he'd hurt her as well. Perhaps him not responding to her letters had been better for the two of them. It seemed they caused each other nothing but pain.

Brushing his hands on the jeans he wore, Craig came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She jumped slightly, having not heard him. Gently he rocked her back and forth. Only slightly taller than Brennan, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "It looks good."

Normally, she would have turned her head for a kiss, but she was not in the mood. "I miss the days on the dig when other people would cook for us," she admitted, pulling away from him to retrieve a loaf of bread from another counter.

Leaning back, Craig crossed his arms over his chest and watched her. Her movements were sharp and he recognized anger in them. "You didn't tell me how your friend was," he prompted again. "Did something happen to him while he was away?"

Craig didn't always follow her emotional train, but he tried because he had feelings for the woman in front of him. Strong, independent and beautiful, she was just what he'd been looking for. He knew she'd been hurt, quite badly in the not too distant past, so he was careful to never push her toward one thing or the other when it came to him. Brennan just needed a bit more time than most to understand her own heart. Despite the little he knew, he had figured out that much.

But since being back in the states, Craig was pretty sure her heart wasn't leaning in his direction.

Placing the bread in front of her, Brennan retrieved a bread knife and began to cut the loaf into neat slices. "He's fine," she said shortly, not wanting to discuss Booth with Craig. Her current boyfriend had no idea of the exact history between her and Booth and Brennan had no intention of telling him. In fact, Brennan had no idea what Craig knew about her partner, because she had shared nothing with him.

Craig knew she'd had her heart crushed not long after arriving in Maluku, but he had no idea Booth had been the one wearing the boots. And despite Angela's tendency to gossip, Brennan was sure she wouldn't be the one to spill the truth to Craig.

Not that Angela knew about him yet. Brennan had done her best to avoid the topic during the several conversations they had in the last week. But she knew her time for hiding was done, now that Booth knew.

"He didn't appear to have been injured while he was in the war zone, which is what I was concerned about," Brennan explained further, feeling that she owed him that. "He stated that he would be returning to work tomorrow."

"So soon?" Craig asked, brushing his fingers against hers as he took the bowl filled with bread from her. He'd hoped dinner would lead to other things, but Brennan didn't appear to being picking up on his cues.

Or she was, and was ignoring them.

She looked at Craig before answering. "We both are looking forward to getting back into a routine," she explained, a note of finality in her voice. "Enough about Booth," she added, just in case he didn't understand. "What did you do today?"

She studied him as he moved across the room with the bowl. He'd already been on the dig site in Maluku when she'd arrived, still shaken from watching Booth walk away from her. She'd managed to avoid everyone on the site for the first three months, throwing herself into her work, while always waiting and hoping for a response from Booth.

The fourth month was spent in a period of intense mourning for what she'd apparently lost and most of the people had continued to avoid her. By that time, most had already formed their friendship groups and anthropologically, that was to be expected. And she didn't have the heart to try and fit in with any of them. They saw her as a person who liked to be alone, and she did nothing to change that opinion.

Craig had been the only one to try. No matter how short she was with him, or how much she tried to stay by herself, Craig was always trying to make a connection. Sometimes she appreciated the effort, other times Brennan had wished he just go away.

Until a night of a bit too much wine when Craig had found her standing on the edge of cliff overlooking the sea. He'd mistakenly thought she was going to jump and had approached her warily in the darkness.

It was the night she'd finally decided Booth didn't want anything to do with her. That she had to stop looking for letters in every mail bag and hoping for something that clearly wasn't going to happen.

After several tense minutes, she'd managed to convince him that she had no intention of ending her life. The conversation in the dark had led to a burgeoning friendship, which had led to the start of a relationship. At least, she thought it had. He was the only friend she'd made the entire time and when he asked to return to DC with her, she'd agreed. Brennan knew seeing Booth would be painful enough and hoped that having someone to spend time with would make that pain a little more bearable.

It was an irrational decision, one she wasn't sure about yet. But one thing she knew for sure: having Craig at the house wasn't making anything go away.

Maybe this time, she'd be the one who walked away.

"Me?" Craig responded, pouring them both a glass of wine. "I called some people I know here to see about finding work. I may not be at your level of expertise, but I'm skilled in my field, as well."

Was it jealousy she heard in his voice? Booth had never been jealous of anything she'd done. He'd encouraged her, pushed her to be the best. Threatened was not a word she'd ever use to describe Booth. Mentally, she gave herself a shake. Craig wasn't Booth, she needed to accept that and move on.

"I am aware of your talent, Craig," Brennan responded brushing past him to finish setting the table. "Did you find out any information?"

He nodded. "There are several job openings in linguistics in the area. Along with my ability to speak several languages, I shouldn't have too much trouble finding a job. And then an apartment," he added.

He was hoping she would offer to let him move in here. But she didn't often pick up subtle cues and he figured he'd half to be a lot more clear about it if he wanted her to agree.

And he was right. "There are plenty of apartments here in DC," she responded. "I can give you a couple names if you want me to."

She'd finished preparing the remainder of the meal and they sat across from each other at her small table. She took the opportunity to look a little closer at him. There had been no opportunity for hair cuts in Maluku and he was often forced to brush hair out of his blue eyes.

He was lanky, almost skinny, lacking muscle tone from spending most of his life studying ancient languages and how they'd evolved through the years. She'd been surprised he was on the team in Maluku, but he'd fit in well with the others, so she didn't question it.

She was the one who hadn't fit in. It had been lonely, but Craig had made it easier. For a time, he'd helped her to forget what she'd left behind, what she'd have to come back to. Now that she was here, in the city, within ten minutes of the man that still haunted her, she was discovering that it was harder to forget.

Craig ate enthusiastically while Brennan only picked at her food. When he asked, Brennan chalked it up to coming home again, but even she knew that it was more than that.

As she cleaned up the table, Craig forced his way into her personal space, resting his hands comfortably on her hips. "Can I stay the night?" he asked, punctuating the question with a soft kiss.

As soon as he pulled back, she shook her head in apology. "Not tonight, Craig. I have to get some sleep so I'm ready to go back to the Jeffersonian tomorrow." Brennan was pretty sure the correct answer was: not ever.

Disappointed, he accepted her decision with a nod. "Perhaps tomorrow then," he said hopefully.

"We'll have to see. I can often spend late night when we have a case to work on. Booth and I often go over notes and complete paperwork before we return to our homes in the evening. I may not be available until the weekend." She just wanted him out of her apartment, out of her space. She needed to think, to breath.

"Of course," he said, stepping back. It was clear she was trying to push him away. "Will you be able to break for lunch?"

Knowing she couldn't keep putting him off, she nodded. "I can usually make time for lunch."

He brightened. "Wonderful! I'll text you tomorrow around noon and we can see how things are going."

She'd probably have her face inches from a skeleton, but he didn't need to know that. "I'll make sure to have my phone near me at that time."

As she held the door open for him, he leaned forward and kissed her again, this time putting a little more behind it. She returned it, because to do otherwise would have been awkward, but there were no physical signs of attraction.

You're using him, a little voice accused her and she silenced it. Logic would not serve her here.

Brennan broke the kiss and with a smile that felt false, watched him walk down the hall away from her apartment. He turned once and gave her a wave, which she returned before closing and locking the door behind him.

Leaning back, she stood there a long time, before refilling a glass with wine and walking to a window. With the curtain pulled back, she had a view of the street and she stared at the people below her without really seeing them. They walked with a purpose, appearing to belong on the streets and in the city.

She wondered, with a sip of wine, if the same could still be said for her.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn't consciously remember digging out his phone, calling for the cab or telling the driver his address. It was all a blur, the buildings rushing past the windows, the images rushing through his head.

Running a hand through his hair, Booth had to admit this wasn't what he'd expected after finally coming home. He'd foolishly hoped Bones would admit she was in love with him and fall into his arms.

All guys had fantasies, even if they didn't want to admit to them.

She had turned him down after all. It was within her right to move on with another man, rationally he knew that. Booth had taken a shot and it had failed. He could have moved on as well, if he had chosen to.

His choice had been to wait. To hope that time would change her mind, her perspective on the idea of spending the rest of her life with him. Maybe he should have said the words. Told her he'd wait no matter how long it took.

There was so much between them that was never said.

"Did you serve?" the driver asked. Booth blinked and looked toward the front of the car. For a moment, he'd forgotten he was being driven back to his apartment, that he wasn't alone with the heartbreak.

"What?" he asked, trying to focus on the here and now.

"Did you serve?" the driver repeated.

"Yeah," Booth said. "I served. Just getting back."

An appreciative smile was offered his way. "Must be hard. Thank you for what you did."

"It's good to be home," Booth said vaguely. And it was. No matter what was taking place between him and Bones, it was good to be back in DC. This was his home now, one he'd worked hard to build after the turmoil of his younger years. All that was missing was someone to share it with.

He wanted to share it with Bones. She apparently wanted to share her life with someone else.

As the cab pulled away, the driver refusing to take his money, Booth stared up at the apartment building, able to pick out his window, his place, even after so many months away. "Damn it, Bones," he muttered, pulling his bag higher up on his shoulder. "What the hell happened?"

Because despite it all, Booth was sure something had. Something more than her rejection of him on the steps of the Hoover that night. Some final push that had sent her into someone else's arms. Had she been hurt in Maluku? Had she heard something about him? A mistaken rumor or something like that?

To think that she'd rejected him, had meant exactly what she'd said that night in front of the Hoover, was not something he'd give any credence to. His emotional sanity depended on it.

Trudging up the stairs, anger and nervous energy making the elevator a poor choice, Booth entered his apartment and wrinkled his nose. It had that musty smell of something that had been empty far too long. He crossed the room to crack a window, letting in the cool air.

Everything he'd brought back with him went in a box, that was tucked into a corner of his closet. His life in the military was over the moment he'd stepped off the base. He didn't want the memory of the last eight months haunting his every moment. Out of sight out of mind was better.

Except it was haunting him already. But it wasn't the battles or the men lost, or the decisions he'd been forced to make that he thought about.

It was the letters that hadn't been sent and the phone calls that hadn't been made. All the times he tried to put pen to paper and didn't know what to say.

It didn't always have to be complicated. He could have written about the days spent under the relentless sun, the nights trying to escape the bugs and the snores of the men around him.

Of the sand that never went away.

The longing that was as ever present as the sand.

There were so many things he still wanted to say to her. The things he regretted not putting into the letters he hadn't written. Booth had been so terrified of her misunderstanding his words, he hadn't dared to write at all.

Not that she had written to him either. Good or bad he would have treasured any words she took the time to put on paper. To see that bold handwriting that he knew as well as he knew his own.

It would have been the perfect time to continue the gamble he'd started that night so long ago. Even if she'd refused him, the words would have been said. And he'd have had all the time in the world to polish those words.

Instead, he'd remained silent. And she'd found someone else to fill the void.

It wasn't until he was in the shower, hot water pounding on his bent head, that he allowed himself to really feel. Thinking was easy. It was easy to watch the words run through your head like a train on a track.

Feeling. Well, that was a lot harder. To feel everything coursing through him when he just wanted to turn it off. The anger, the pain, the regret at what he'd just been forced to live through.

She'd been as beautiful as he remembered, and he'd tried so hard to forget. Blue eyes, brown hair, same figure that he longed to see without clothes. The voice that had haunted his dreams was still the same as she'd crushed him again with just words.

 _I met someone_ , she said. Well, so had he. Lots of someones. Reporters, other soldiers, beautiful foreign women. He'd met them all and walked away. All because of some misplaced hope that he hadn't totally lost his chance with her. That the time apart would allow her to adjust to the idea of taking that final step and give her the courage to actually do it.

What was wrong with him that he hadn't been good enough for her? That she'd turned away so easily and found a replacement. The step from friendship to couple should have been easy. Hell, they'd been a couple in every way except for sex. Had she not been attracted to him that way?

But he shook his head, droplets falling around him. More than once, he'd caught Bones looking at him with what was certainly desire. She had turned him down because she didn't want to risk the friendship, but that denial had done the same. Everything they'd worked so hard toward was fractured and broken, the pieces falling at their feet.

No one could find all the pieces and put them together the same way again. They'd both known that. So they'd run rather than try to find a new normal.

And now this. Some strange guy she'd brought home with her, sharing her space and sleeping in her bed. Booth desperately wanted her to be happy, it was all he'd ever wanted for her, but this? How could be possibly pretend to be happy with something like this? He was not that good of an actor.

He could request a transfer. With his experience, he would probably have his pick of offices. But to be the best you had to work with the best. And the Jeffersonian was the best. He'd never achieve the same arrest and conviction rate in any other office in any other city. If he wanted to get back to where he'd been before he'd left for eight months, Booth would have to stay exactly where he was.

And wasn't that a slap to the face.

To leave, he'd have to give up everything.

To stay, he'd have to give up Bones.

She wouldn't want to spend evenings over takeout with him. Wouldn't meet every afternoon for lunch at the diner. The quiet early mornings on cases and the furious moments chasing after suspects wouldn't happen anymore. What man would want his girlfriend doing things like that? If Bones dated anyone with substance, he'd demand she give up the moments alone with Booth.

He slammed a hand against the wall once, twice, furious at the thought of having no choice in the matter. At least, not one he was willing to live with. He'd loved her, damn it, still loved her, would always love her. How pathetic did that make him? What kind of masochist was he that he'd put himself through seeing Bones every day, knowing he could never have her?

As the water cooled, Booth quickly finished and exited the shower. Toweling dry and dressing mechanically, he walked with purpose to his kitchen. There was no food, that had been cleaned out before he'd left and there had been no time to shop yet. What there was, however, was alcohol. Three bottles in the cupboard over the fridge, conveniently located right next to the glasses.

The first glass went down in two swallows, his throat protesting against the sudden burn. The second went down smoother, but no less quickly. He grabbed the neck of the bottle and held it up to the light. Not enough to accidentally kill himself, but more than enough to get drunk on.

Perfect.

Wouldn't that be a great way to go back to work tomorrow? Hung over and grumpy. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time.

There was no cable, not yet. Just the basic necessities which left him with nothing but his own thoughts. Which the alcohol would dull soon enough.

Except every single time he closed his eyes for more than the length of a blink, he saw Bones standing in front of him. In her lab coat, studying the skeleton in front of her. The next time she was completing paperwork at the table in the Jeffersonian.

The final time, before his eyes stayed closed from the exhaustion and the alcohol, she stood with her arms around a man that wasn't Booth, her lips pressed against his.


	4. Chapter 4

"Brennan!" Angela squealed, pulling her friend in for an enthusiastic hug. "You look great. I love the hair."

"Thanks," Brennan said, brushing self-consciously at the bangs. She took a good look at her friend as soon as she let go. She had a look a relaxation and happiness about her that Brennan couldn't help but envy. "You look good, too, Ang. Paris must have agreed with you."

"Oh, it did," Angela agreed. "There's nothing like taking an entire afternoon to draw the Eiffel Tower." Hooking an arm through Brennan's she walked with her toward Brennan's office. "How was Maluku?"

Angela felt Brennan stiffen and looked at her curiously. "Fine," Brennan responded curtly. "It wasn't quite what I hoped. We didn't make the scientific discoveries I was expecting. The funding was pulled and I was forced to come home early."

Unfortunately, she'd made some other discoveries. About herself and about Booth, but none of those were any of Angela's concern. And Brennan knew she needed to keep trying to move on.

Except Angela would make the whole thing her concern. And then everyone in the Lab would make it their concern. Taking a deep breath, Brennan wondered if she should have left Maluku at all.

As soon as they were in the office, Brennan pulled her arm away and moved toward her desk to fire up her computer. Even after so long, the familiarity of the surroundings put her at ease.

But she looked up to see Angela and immediately tensed again. Brennan knew Angela had always been able to see right through her. But instead of discomfort, Brennan was surprised to feel a certain sense of relief at the thought. Maybe, she'd finally have someone she could talk to.

But Brennan really didn't want to talk to anyone about this. Except Booth. And he was the one person she was pretty sure she couldn't talk to.

From the other side of the desk, Angela watched her friend curiously. For a woman who'd just come back from a warm, tropical destination, Brennan looked anything but relaxed. She looked tired and stressed out emotionally.

There was only one man who could put that look on her friend's face. So many months apart and those two still hadn't figured it out.

"Have you seen Booth?" Angela asked, deciding to relax in a chair. Conversations of this sort could take a while and Angela knew if she wanted to find anything out, she needed to do so before a dead body showed up.

The pause was so subtle, Angela wouldn't have seen it if she hadn't been looking for it. "I saw him yesterday," Brennan said as she sat at her computer. She could feel Angela's eyes on her and knew she wouldn't leave until she got what she wanted.

Talk or not? Her mind kept circling between one option or the other. Should she share everything that happened, the letters she'd sent and the answers she didn't get? Or should she just tell Angela the basic facts and leave the rest unsaid?

Brennan knew she couldn't, shouldn't hide Craig from her friends for even a moment. To do so would suggest so many things, probably even some she wasn't aware of.

But now that the time had come, Brennan was having a hard time saying the words. Because, to be honest, she wasn't sure how much longer Craig would be in the area.

Craig wasn't Booth and Brennan couldn't stop herself from comparing the two men.

"And how is he?" Angela asked. "Looking fine and tan from all that time in the desert?"

"He looked well, Angela. He didn't display any apparent injuries from his time in the military. And I don't think he was trying to purposely get a tan. He should be back to work today, as well."

Something was wrong, Angela was sure of it. Instead of warmth and pleasure at the thought of seeing a good friend again, Brennan was agitated. She kept playing with a pen on her desk and her eyes looked every where but at Angela. "Are you having lunch with him?" she asked and frowned when Brennan shook her head.

"I'm having lunch with Craig," she said, keeping her eyes on the pen in her hands.

"Craig? Who's Craig?" Angela demanded. She had a bad feeling, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

Brennan's blue eyes finally met hers. "He's my boyfriend. I met him in Maluku."

It took every ounce of control Angela possessed to school her features in a neutral expression. Something had happened between Booth and Brennan before either had left, Angela was sure of it. But in typical fashion, neither of them had been willing to share. There had been rumors and conjecture of course, but it appeared no one had first hand information of the falling out that had taken place.

All Angela knew is the fight, or whatever it was, had sent the two of them as far apart as physically possible. Even communication between the two would have been difficult for the last eight months.

What could have happened to make them not want to see or even talk to each other?

And now, here was Brennan, telling her she'd brought a man home with her. A man who wasn't Booth.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Brennan asked, her eyes clouded. But she knew. Knew exactly why Angela wasn't saying anything. It wasn't Booth she'd brought home and they'd all judge her for it. Starting with the friend sitting across from her.

What would Angela say if she knew it had been Booth's choice this time, not Brennan's?

That was why Brennan knew she couldn't talk to any of them.

"I'm processing," Angela said slowly. And she was, furiously, frantically trying to make it all make sense. To not hurt her very good friend sitting in front of her waiting for an answer. "Are you happy?" she asked finally.

Funny, that was the same question Booth had asked her. Why did everyone assume that she wasn't?

"I was in Maluku," Brennan responded. And though her words said she had been her body language didn't say the same. "I feel that it's too early to make that kind of assumption now, since I've only been back in the city a couple of days."

"Does Booth know?" Angela asked. "About Craig?" Brennan could tell her she was happy until she was blue in the face. It was clear to Angela she wasn't. Not even close.

A nod of the her head was the answer, and not the one Angela was expecting. If she'd been Brennan, she'd keep the two men as far apart as possible.

Of course, if she was Brennan, she'd have slept with Booth years ago.

"I told Booth when I saw him. It seemed wrong to keep it a secret. We are friends after all and I'm telling you so why shouldn't I tell him?"

Wondering who she was trying to convince, Angela asked, "And how did Booth take it?"

She pictured the man going ballistic, but that was only wishful thinking. These two would forever step around their feelings, a dance that was so old it was almost exhausting.

"Who cares how he took it?" Brennan asked with a flash of anger. "He has no say over anything in my life."

Angela held up both hands in surrender. Anger wasn't an emotion she was expecting. There was pain behind the words. She was covering pain with anger and Angela wondered what the cause of it was.

"Of course, he doesn't, Bren. I just figured, or hoped the two of you would finally hook up after you got home. I take it eight months apart hasn't changed a thing." She couldn't begin to hide the disappointment in her voice. Booth and Brennan were fated for each other, she was sure of it, and she was a strong believer in that sort of thing. But somehow, fate had found the two most stubborn people on the entire planet.

A bitter look flashed across Brennan's face. Standing suddenly, she grabbed her lab coat. She was done with this conversation. It had been wrong to think talking to Angela would help anything. "I'm going down to bone storage," she announced. Her heels clicked as she took deliberate steps toward the door away from Angela. "And eight months," she added, stopping at the door but not turning, "changed everything."

Brushing past Cam as she exited her office, Cam looked from one woman to the other before approaching Angela. "What's going on?" she asked, clearly recognizing an unhappy Brennan. "What did eight months change?"

"Brennan brought a guy home," Angela said bluntly. "Apparently eight months apart changed how Brennan felt about Booth." Looking down, Angela smoothed her skirt.

Eyes widening, Cam stared at the artist. "You're telling me Dr. Brennan brought home a man who wasn't Booth? Wow."

"Some guy named Craig," Angela answered, waving her hand vaguely in the air. "She said Booth knows."

More than a little shocked, Cam sat on the edge of the chair next to Angela. "I can't believe he's too happy. Of course, he could have brought someone home, as well, I suppose."

Angela snorted. "I didn't get that impression from Brennan. But she's not happy, even if she claims to be. Played with a pen the entire time she talked and could barely look at me. And was even less happy when I started asking questions she didn't like."

"I take it she went downstairs?"

"She went to hide," Angela snapped. "Or to keep pretending she's not in love with Booth." Angela sighed in frustration. "I don't know why I bother anymore."

"Would it do any good to tell you to leave this alone?" Cam asked. When she'd taken this job, it had been an opportunity to come work at one of the best institutions in the country. She hadn't expected to make friends here, to find people she considered family. But because it was a family, personalities often conflicted and no one minded their own business. "Booth and Brennan have to figure this out on their own. And if Brennan brought a guy home, maybe they already did and this is the result."

"The hell it is," Angela muttered. "This is just another colossal mistake for the two of them. Brennan hasn't jumped seriously in the dating pool for years. What the hell pushed her in?"

If she was surprised to hear Angela say hell in the span of several sentences, Cam didn't show it. "Just don't push too hard, Angela. Something happened and we both know Brennan could just pick up and leave again."

Getting to her feet, Angela glared down at Cam. "If she tries, and Booth doesn't go after her, I'll go and get her myself this time."

Cam watched Angela storm off, presumably to find Hodgins and vent some of her anger to him. Also standing, she smoothed the front of her lab coat and prepared to return to her office.

Despite the conflict that was sure to come, she was glad to have her family home again.

And like Angela, she'd do everything in her power, and probably some things that weren't, to keep them there.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'll have the salad and the vegetable soup," Brennan said without looking at the menu. Eight months away and diner appeared to be exactly the same. Same waitress, same tables, same food.

But not the same lunch partner. Across from her, Craig sat perusing a menu he'd never seen before. It was weird, waiting for someone to figure out what to order. She and Booth hadn't need to think about it for a couple of years now.

And just like that, she was back to thinking about Booth. There wasn't a place she could go, a person she could talk to in this city that didn't remind her of something Booth had done with her. As a woman who had excellent control over her own mind, the inability to stop that from happening frustrated her.

"I'll take a burger with fries," Craig finally said.

"Are you annoyed with the choices?" Brennan asked, trying to figure out why his voice had sounded so strange.

"A little," Craig said honestly. "When you said we'd be having lunch together, I didn't expect it to be at some run down diner. You're the head of a major forensic lab, Temperance. I thought we'd be able to sneak away for a longer lunch."

"I'm not the head of the lab," Brennan corrected. "And I don't take advantage of my position to take a long lunch. If there is a case going on, I often don't get lunch."

Unless Booth brought it to her. But that wasn't something Craig needed to know. And Brennan had a feeling he'd never bring her lunch, no matter what was going on.

With a sigh, Brennan reached for her water. She'd tried to sit at a different table, but of course the only one open was the table she and Booth usually occupied. If Craig had noticed the falter in her step as they approached the table, he didn't say anything.

"How is your first day back?" Craig asked, trying to find common ground between them. Since leaving the islands, it had been harder and harder to maintain a conversation with her. Without the dig to talk about, it appeared they had very little in common.

Coming to this city was starting to seem like a colossal mistake. He wasn't quite ready to give up yet, but it was close. Getting to know Temperance was more difficult than he imagined and Craig wasn't sure he wanted to put in that much effort.

"I spent some time with a skeleton from the Civil War. I hope to have the identification complete this afternoon," Brennan explained. It had required less of her mentally to catalogue the injuries on a long dead soldier. When she lost focus pondering the situation she currently found herself in, no one had been there to notice.

One eyebrow came up. "I thought you worked on murder cases," Craig said. It had been one of the things that had fascinated him about her. Working on old skeletons was a common enough skill. Having what it took to work with the FBI and put murderers away was a lot more impressive.

"I do, when there is one. We don't have a current one right now, so I must use my considerable skills elsewhere." Had Booth ever made it seem like old identifications weren't important? Maybe, but not as an insult. Just if he thought she needed to eat lunch or that they had a more recent case to work on. Her job was important to her, so therefore it was important to him, no matter what aspect of it she was currently engaged in.

She hated this attempt to make small talk. Without the dig between them, the conversation was uncomfortable and the more Craig learned about her, the less impressed he appeared to be.

"What is your goal for the day?" she asked, trying to keep things moving. Their food hadn't even arrived yet, and she was desperate to escape.

"My goal?" he echoed with a shrug. "This afternoon I have an appointment at a university nearby. There are several openings in my field for instructors. I think it would be a good fit for me. You should go into teaching, Temperance."

"I am a teacher," Brennan reminded him. "I have a number of interns who rotate through my office each month."

"But that's only, what, less than ten each month? Think of the students you could reach if you went into strictly education." And she wouldn't be spending so much time at the Jeffersonian or with the FBI agent she worked with. The various photos Craig had pulled up on the Internet showed him what a handsome guy Seeley Booth was. Craig couldn't help but wonder if he was competition. Better to get her away from him now, before they reestablished whatever their partnership was.

There was a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind that this agent was the one she'd been so upset over on the islands. Which made him even less interested in continuing to explore this relationship. The last place he wanted to be was in the middle of a lover's quarrel.

However, Temperance was a beautiful, fascinating woman when she chose to open herself up even a little. It was hard to walk away from something like that.

As their food was placed in front of them, Brennan considered what Craig was saying and promptly discarded it. There was no way she would give up the Jeffersonian again, at least, not yet. She'd missed the challenge, the cases, and even the people when she'd walked away from it the first time.

Booth played no part in the desire not to leave. Nothing at all.

"I don't think education, or a classroom setting, is the right fit for me," Brennan said, not wanting to hurt Craig's feelings by dismissing the idea outright. "I enjoy the challenge of the cases I work. I would rather instruct several students in a more direct fashion, rather than a classroom of many."

Craig took a bite of the burger and immediately threw it back on the plate, pushing it toward the center of the table. "How do you people eat here?" he demanded, wiping his face with a napkin. "That is nothing but burned meat and grease."

Brennan glanced quickly around, seeing several people turn toward them at the sound of his complaint. For the first time in her life, she was embarrassed by her company at the diner, an establishment she'd come to love.

"Keep your voice down, please," Brennan requested coolly. She might not pick up on social cues well, but even she knew people around them were annoyed, especially the waitress. "Your hamburger looks like it was cooked well." Booth would never had hurt anyone's feelings. Booth wouldn't put her in this situation.

Damn, Booth, for making everything so hard.

Looking around, Craig realized he wasn't helping himself with his behavior. Quickly, he shot an apologetic glance toward the waitress and pulled the plate back toward him. "I'm sorry," he said to the woman across from him. "This is the first burger I've had since I returned to the states. Guess I'm not used to it after the food we ate on Maluku."

Relieved, Brennan gave him a small smile. While happy he'd apologized, she was more concerned with the flash of behavior she'd just seen. What had she gotten herself into?

They finished the meal in almost silence, each attempting a topic of conversation that quickly fell flat. Soon, they were leaving together, Brennan agreeing to meet Craig for a dinner at a place he promised was much more suitable for a dating couple.

She doubted it was a good idea to go with him, but had been willing to agree to almost anything just to leave his company.

As he slid into a cab and disappeared, Brennan felt the tension drop from her shoulders. It would take her a few minutes to walk back to the Jeffersonian and rather than hurry, as she usually did, Brennan took a more leisurely pace. It seemed, all she was doing today, was looking for time to think.

Craig was not anyone she wanted to be with, short term or long term. She knew that. Right now, he was nothing more than a barrier, keeping Booth from getting too close. Keeping him around just for that reason seemed like a horrible idea.

But did she have any other options? Of course, there were many. The real question was if she was willing to try any of them.

Her bag banged against the side of her leg as she headed back toward her office. The traffic was jarring after being on an isolated island for so long, but Brennan found she almost appreciated the noise. If she let it, it would drown out the noise in her own head.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't see Dr. Hodgins until he fell into step next to her.

"Hey, Dr. B," he greeted, smiling in her direction. "Nice day for a walk."

"Dr. Hodgins. What are you doing out here?"

A brown paper bag was held in front of him. "Angie asked me to pick up something for her." And to spy on Dr. Brennan. But by the time he'd made it past the diner, lunch had already ended. Angela would be disappointed, she desperately wanted to know what this Craig guy looked like.

But Hodgins didn't need to see him to come to any conclusions. All he needed to see was the woman next to him. And she was clearly miserable.

If it had been Booth, Brennan would have thought he was following her. Instead, she took what Hodgins said at face value. "It's nice you take such good care of her," Brennan said. A small part of her was jealous of the relationship between her two friends. She'd had a chance at that and let it slip away.

And when she'd tried to rectify her mistake, Booth had ignored her completely.

"I'm very lucky," he agreed, continuing to walk next to her. Angela desperately wanted information but Hodgins felt uncomfortable prying. "How are you, Dr. B?"

She shot him a sideways glance. At least he hadn't asked if she was happy. "I'm fine, Dr. Hodgins. Why are you asking?"

Past experience told her she was fine, that she would be fine. That this crisis would pass, just as the rest always had.

Except this time, she was pretty sure it was going to take more than just ignoring the whole thing.

"Angela wanted to know," he admitted ruefully. "I told her not to pry."

"So you weren't just out for a walk, Dr. Hodgins?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she continued. "I wish she wouldn't. I told her I was happy." If she kept repeating it enough, maybe it would be true.

"Then that's what I'll tell her," Hodgins said, knowing that Dr. B. would share nothing until she was ready. If then. And knowing that little bit wasn't going to begin to make his wife happy. Two miserable women in the office? Work would be a lot of fun the next few days. "How about you tell me about Maluku instead? Or," he continued as a pained look crossed her face, "I tell you about Paris."

"I would like to hear about Paris," she agreed, thankful to not be forced to share any information that would surely get back to Angela. "Did you see the Catacombs of Paris while you were there?"

"I did," Hodgins replied. "Angela told me she saw enough skeletons when we worked at the Jeffersonian."

A smile crossed her lips. "I did some work there many years ago."

As she continued to talk about her work, Hodgins glanced at her several times, but didn't interrupt. He knew Dr. Brennan liked to hide in her facts when agitated and this seemed like an appropriate time for the tactic.

Angela wouldn't be happy, but then Dr. Hodgins was pretty sure the woman next to him wasn't either.

What a mess.


	6. Chapter 6

Booth left his office a little before noon to drive to the Jeffersonian. Several unsolved case files had landed on his desk not long after he'd met with the boss. Booth wasn't surprised, but he wasn't unhappy about it either.

He'd hoped to have several days to settle in before he'd be forced to see Bones again. Time to settle his mind and his heart while he came to terms with the fact that he had definitely lost her. Not that Bones had ever been his to begin with, but for the last several years, before they'd separated, it had certainly felt as if she was.

And if she heard him talking or thinking about her like that, she'd spend the next ten minutes lecturing him about how she wasn't property.

Booth would love to hear that lecture again. While she sat in the passenger seat and mentioned that he wasn't wearing his seat belt.

"Shit," he muttered, turning the radio up a little louder. "How the hell am I going to do this?"

The sunlight was bright and his eyes were carefully covered with sunglasses. He hadn't finished the bottle of alcohol, but it had been close. He had, unfortunately, swallowed enough to make the sun seem like the government's newest form of torture. If someone had a secret they wanted, all they'd have to do was take off Booth's sunglasses to get him to talk.

He walked into the Lab to discover that it looked the same. It even smelled the same, a mixture of disinfectant and death he'd never smelled anywhere else. For a minute, he could pretend the last year hadn't happened.

Angela elbowed Cam when he walked in and Booth knew he could pretend all he wanted, but that's all it would be. Pretend. The two women made it clear Brennan's new boyfriend wasn't a secret. He straightened his spine, knowing it would take everything in him to get through the next five minutes, five hours, five years.

No, that was wrong. It wouldn't last five years. He'd leave long before that, if Bones didn't leave first.

But the two women surprised him. After a quick hug and a welcome home from both, they turned the conversation immediately to the case files in his hand. He would have thanked them, but to do so would have brought up the one topic they were clearly all trying to avoid.

"Bones here?" he finally asked, just because he should. It certainly wasn't because he hadn't seen her and was curious about where she was or who she was with.

Nope. Definitely nothing like that.

Cam and Angela shared a look and Booth wondered what the debate was about. When neither answered he stared daggers at Cam, knowing she would give in first.

"She went out to lunch," Cam answered, not looking up from the file she was flipping through. "She left about ten minutes ago."

It went unsaid who she was eating with, but it was clear they all knew.

"Damn it," Angela said. "She shouldn't be…," her voice fading away when Booth held up his hand. So much for his hope that they'd leave it alone.

"She should do whatever makes her happy," Booth said and was pleased with his ability to say the words. Maybe he could lie convincingly after all.

Then again, considering the look on Angela's face, maybe not. "You make her happy," Angela argued, looking to Cam for support. But Cam continued to stare at the exact same page of the file she'd opened. Whatever she was focusing on, it wasn't the words in front of her.

"Enough, Angela," he said and though the words didn't come out as sharply as he'd hoped, he meant them. "Leave it alone."

Cam snorted and Angela shifted her focus to glare at her. "Sound familiar?" she asked, closing the file in front of her. "Come on, Booth," she said, turning away from her clearly annoyed colleague. "Let's go up to the table and look at these files."

Relieved, Booth nodded and headed up the stairs, leaving a grumbling Angela behind. The knot between his shoulders disappeared slightly as he sat across from Cam.

She placed the files in a row between them. "Before we start," she said, tapping the middle file, "there is something I'd like to say."

"Camille," he hissed, his use of her full name a warning. Of all of them, he was the one he'd hoped would leave it alone. "You know I won't discuss this with you."

"Just give me a chance, Seeley," she said with an amused smile. They'd always used first names as a warning, one she rarely paid attention to. "I won't pretend not to be concerned, and part of the concern is for me. I just got my team back together again and I fear what could happen when this comes to a head."

"It's none," Booth began, only to be interrupted again.

"Of my business?" Cam finished for him. "Of course, it isn't. But I'm not sure that matters to Angela. She'll make it her business for as long as she feels it's necessary."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I just want to do my job."

"Me, too," she agreed. "But I want Brennan to be able to do her job, too."

He met her eyes. "It won't be me, Cam. If Bones gets pushed one way or the other, chooses to stay or chooses to go, it won't be because of something I did, not this time."

She narrowed her eyes at the last comment, but chose to let it go. They all knew something had happened between Booth and Brennan, and as far as Cam was concerned, that comment just confirmed it. "That's good enough for me. Now, what did you bring us?"  
That was where Brennan found them after returning from lunch. Their heads were so close they almost touched as they studied the files in front of them.

"I remember this one," Cam said, finally sitting back up. "I think the remains are down in bone storage. If I were you, I'd start with this one." She looked up to see Dr. Brennan staring at the two of them. With a quick flick of the wrist, she motioned for the scientist to join them.

But Brennan missed the signal while she dealt with a rather unfamiliar emotion. One she didn't even recognize at first, because it was associated with a person, rather than a scientific accomplishment someone else had made.

Jealousy. Seeing Booth in such as intimate position, working on case files with someone else, made her feel irrational. Because it was irrational to be jealous over something like that.

She'd just come from lunch with her boyfriend, she should be pleased, happy to have someone to share her life with. Except Craig wasn't going to be that man. The lunch had just confirmed it. Now, it was simply a matter of breaking it off with him.

It had been awkward, uncomfortable and Brennan realized the more she talked to Craig away from Maluku, the less she liked him. He was jealous of her, and unfocused when it came to his area of expertise, something Brennan just couldn't deal with in any person, much less a man she was dating.

Twenty-four hours in Booth's presence and any hope of a relationship with someone else was gone. Because Booth was never jealous or unfocused.

Still, she shouldn't be envious of what another man and woman were doing. No matter who they were and what history they happened to share.

Why was she worried about a life she'd never have, or even had to begin with? Booth had every right to move on. But did it have to be with Cam? Would she be forced to watch them together each day, a constant reminder of the chance she should have taken, but didn't?

A constant reminder that Booth had decided he didn't want her after all.

When she didn't join them, Booth looked up. She still had the ability to take his breath away, she always would, but right then it was concern, not attraction he felt for her.

He could read her like a book. Her favorite color, her passwords she thought were secret, he knew it all. And because of that, he knew the emotions she was trying to hide.

Longing was there. Was it because she was afraid she wouldn't fit in with the group anymore? That she'd lose the friendships and the family she'd managed to build around herself since she'd come to the Jeffersonian?

Or was it Booth himself that she longed to be with, to be near? And how did that make any sense, when she was the one who'd turned away to begin with?

Jealousy, too. She was jealous of him and Cam, sitting at the table together working on a case. Didn't she know by now that no matter what happened between them, she was the only one he really wanted?

It didn't make sense to be thinking that way at all. He'd lost her. Even if Craig didn't last long, another man would eventually take his place. A man that certainly wouldn't be Booth. She'd turned him down and moved on. He needed to take the hint.

But he loved her. And that made it almost impossible for him to let her go.

"What's wrong, Bones?" he asked. "Forget how to sit at a table and go over case files?" It seemed better to joke, to stay away from anything deeper. To ask her why she looked at them, why she looked at him, the way she did.

Brennan blinked and came back to the scene in front of her. "I have never forgotten anything I learned," she bristled, marching forward. "But I wasn't aware we had a new case. Someone should have called me."

Anger, she decided, was the best defense. Anger was easy.

Wanting something you couldn't have was much more difficult.

"It's not a new case," Cam explained. Standing, she stepped away from the table. The two of them had to learn how to work together again, or this team would fracture for a second time. "Booth was given several unsolved cases. I was just suggesting which he should look at first."

Nodding, Brennan took a path to the table that took her nowhere near Booth. He noticed and his features darkened visibly. So that's how it was going to be?

He looked from Brennan to see Cam watching him. "I'm fine," he said softly, waving her away. "Bones and I can take are of this."

She hesitated before nodding. "I'll have the remains brought to the platform. We can start our examination there."

"Female," Brennan said as Cam walked away. It was easy to fall back into her science. It gave her a place to hide. "Between twenty-five and thirty would be my best estimate before I take a closer look."

"Betsy Ross Maddison," Booth said without looking up. "And no, I'm not kidding. That's what the identification said that was found next to her body." But he wasn't thinking about the case, not really.

He was suddenly fascinated with her hands. Strong enough to handle weapons with him on the range, but sensitive enough to feel the most subtle of differences on a bone. He was always looking at her face, her eyes, her smile, but he'd never noticed her hands before.

Great. Was that what the next few weeks would be like? Noting new and interesting things about her he'd missed out on.

He'd been wrong earlier. The sun wasn't torture. This was.

"Booth," she said, and he had a feeling it wasn't the first time she'd said it.

"Yeah?" he said, finally looking up at the eyes he'd just been thinking about.

She gave him a look of mild irritation. "I asked if you were ready to go look at the remains with me, or if you were going back to your office?"

Looking at remains had never been his favorite, but doing it now held even less appeal than it used to.

"I'm heading back," he said, holding out his hand for the file. "I'll have copies sent over."

Her look of disappointment with his answer followed him as he headed back toward the SUV.


	7. Chapter 7

Brennan caught the look her two colleagues shared as she came down the stairs and chose to ignore it.

Before them, on the steel table reserved for examinations, rested a clean skeleton. Brennan tamped down an inappropriate smile, acknowledging internally how much she'd missed this. For the immediate future, she planned to go on digs no longer than a week or two. Ancient remains were no longer where her passions rested.

In order to keep that promise to herself, she was going to have to fix her relationship with Booth. Or the friendship, they didn't have a relationship.

"Will Dr. Hodgins be joining us?" she asked, making every effort to avoid mentioning her partner. "I know he's returned from lunch. We had a very pleasant conversation as we walked back."

Angela had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as the Brennan pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. "What did you talk about?"

"We talked about the Catacombs of Paris," Brennan said. "It is unfortunate you chose not to visit, Angela. I think, as an artist, you would have found the symmetry of the place quite lovely."

"It is a cavern built of bones," Angela said. She reached for the camera she'd use to document the investigation, when they finally got that far. Which wouldn't be for a few more minutes if she had her way. "I don't care how symmetrical it is. I was in Paris," she said, as if that explained everything.

"And I was in Maluku," Brennan said, wondering why they were suddenly reminding each other where they'd been. "And Cam was here. Are we ready to get to work?" she asked, directing her question at Cam.

"Of course, Dr. Brennan," she said with a shrug. "Have you looked at the file?"

Looking back and for the between the other two women, Angela made no move to start snapping photographs. "This is seriously how we are going to do this?"

Already bending over the skeleton, Brennan raised nothing but her eyes. "Has the Jeffersonian established a new procedure when doing investigations? Otherwise, yes, I'd say this is how we are going to do this."

"Angela," Cam hissed, the warning in her voice clear.

But Angela, being Angela refused to listen. "You can't keep doing this to him."

"Doing what?" Brennan snapped, allowing for just a moment, the emotions she kept so carefully controlled to show. "Trying to find a way to make myself happy. Pushing back each time one of you suggests I should be with Booth? None of you get to make that decision for me."

"You are right about that, Dr. Brennan," Cam said quickly. "I am happy you have found someone you are interested in. Now," she said, opening the file to avoid Angela's stare, "I suggested this case to Booth because I felt there was more there to work with."

"Did you get any information other than the name?" Brennan asked, picking up the skull to rotate it in her hands. She was grateful Cam did her best to keep personal stuff out of the Lab. Not that she was always successful, but she tried. "Markers suggest this was a white female. Which would correspond with the identification found next to the body."

Raising her fists to her hips, Angela glared at her friends. She refused to let this go. "When did you decide?" she demanded. "When did you decide Booth wasn't good enough for you but this guy is?

Brennan rose slowly and looked directly at Cam. "I won't stay up here if she keeps doing this. In fact, I won't stay at the Jeffersonian. I refuse to work in any situation where I'm continually questioned this way."

Backed into a corner, Cam made a choice. "Go take a walk, Angela. We shouldn't need any photographs right now. I'll come to your office when I need you."

Brennan shifted her eyes from Cam to Angela. She was having enough trouble with this without Angela's interference. Sweets had tried once and it hadn't ended well. No one would make a choice for her this time.

Ripping the strap from her neck, Angela handed the camera to Cam and took angry steps down the stairs. Both women turned to watch her stomp toward her office.

Cam sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan," Cam said returning her attention to the table.

But to her surprise, Brennan waved off the apology. "I knew it would be tough for some people," she admitted. "But I don't want what's taking place to interfere with my job."

Cam opened her mouth to remind Brennan that what was taking place involved Booth and that would surely impact her job, before closing it again. Brennan might have trouble with emotions at times, but even she was self aware enough to know that.

Instead, she handed the open folder across the table. "Then let's get to work."

BbBbBb

"She just threw me off the platform," Angela fumed to Hodgins when he entered her office.

Hodgins, hesitated in the doorway, not sure he wanted to deal with his wife when she was this angry. "Who threw you off the platform?"

"Cam, that's who. Told me to go take a walk."

He desperately wanted to support his wife, but didn't know how he was going to do it. "You started asking about Booth, didn't you?"

Whirling, Angela pointed a finger at him. "You agree with them, don't you?"

Closing the door behind him, Hodgins grabbed Angela's hand out of the air. "Agree about what?"

"That I should leave it alone."

He squeezed her hand before letting go and taking a step back. "Yes, Angie, I do." Her eyes flashed and he forced himself not to back away further. "Do you think there's any chance you might be making this worse?"

"By forcing Brennan to see what's right in front of her?"

"And what is in front of her?" Hodgins asked. "Booth, and who knows what happened there, a boyfriend she's trying to be happy with, even though I have a feeling she isn't, and a best friend who won't give her the chance to try."

At the blunt assessment, Angela pressed her lips together. "Is that how you see it?"

"What I see," Hodgins said, trying to soften the blow, "is a friend that cares so much that she's pushing too hard."

Walking past him, Angela looked out the windows toward the main part of the lab. "She'll never be happy without Booth."

"You don't know that, Angela. And you have to give her a chance to find that out on her own. You know you can't push, Dr. B. and if you continue to do so, she will just keep fighting you. You could drive her away from Booth, instead of toward him."

"So you agree she should be with Booth?" Angela asked, refusing to acknowledge her husband may be right.

"I just want my friends to be happy. And I think she's going to need her best friend no matter how this turns out in the end. Why don't you try to be that?"

BbBbBb

Hodgins' words replayed in her head as she walked back toward the platform in the center of the lab. It irked her to know he was probably right.

And when it came right down to it, Cam would fire her if that's what it took to make Brennan stay. So if Angela wanted to see how all of this turned out, she was going to have to control herself.

Her steps softer, Angela grabbed her camera. "If I can get some pictures, I can be ready for scenarios when you are," she offered.

Relief clear on Cam's face, she stepped back to give Angela room. Brennan also looked up and blinked hard, trying to understand what had just happened to subdue Angela's anger.

Knowing the easiest way out was to just let it go, Brennan took it. "Could you focus on the rib area? I think we might be looking at a stabbing based on some of the damage I can see to the bones."

"I'm sorry, Bren," Angela whispered softly as she came up next to her. "If you want to talk about anything, I'm here."

She didn't want to talk. She wanted to go back to when times were easier and everything in her life made sense. But time, no matter what physicists said, didn't appear to run in reverse.

It had been foolish to come back and think things would be easy. That Booth would accept she'd moved on and Angela would accept she'd done it with someone other than Booth. Brennan wouldn't have to wonder what would have happened if Booth had responded to either letter or how her life might be different right at this moment if he had.

She'd dreamt last night that Booth had met her at the coffee cart and instead of stilted conversation, they'd fallen into each other's arms like long lost lovers. It had been so painfully perfect, Brennan had a hard time facing the harsh light of reality.

No longer as cold and distant as she had been, so separated from emotions she could bury them beneath facts, Brennan wondered how she'd ever get through the days and weeks ahead.

But no, she didn't want to talk about it. "I don't need to talk, Angela. I'm fine."

Eyes narrowed, seeing things she didn't like, Angela accepted the lie and pretended it was the truth. "Then when you're ready, I'll see you in my office."

Hodgins was wrong, Angela decided. She could decide to let her best friend be miserable and say nothing about it.


	8. Chapter 8

Like a moth to a flame, he showed back up right before it was time for her to go home. Other times, long past now, he would have picked up food and showed up at her apartment. Bones would have taken things from his cartons she claimed she didn't like and he would have insisted they watch something besides documentaries.

Now, he was left to dig for scraps of time with her and it irked him.

He wondered why he couldn't walk away when she'd made it very clear she'd moved on. First, Bones rejected him verbally and had cemented it by bringing home another man. But Booth couldn't keep himself from her orbit, always had to be near her, around her, or his day just wasn't complete.

How long before it all imploded?

"Booth, what are you doing here?" she asked, wary at his sudden return. Their earlier meeting had gone so poorly, Brennan was concerned that returning to work with him had been a mistake.

Still, his reappearance, after his abrupt exit, gave Brennan hope that everything would work out in the end.

She had about ten minutes before she had to leave to meet Craig at his hotel, but mentioning that was a bad idea. So she kept her mouth shut and waited for Booth's response.

But she wasn't going to be at the hotel long. Just enough time to tell Craig that it was over between them. Brennan wasn't sure it had ever started, but it was definitely at an end.

Brennan wasn't going to settle and Craig wasn't doing it for her. He was a miserable, jealous man who had no trouble hurting the feelings of those around him. To continue something so clearly wrong for both of them was cruel.

Craig had simply been a barrier to keep her thoughts away from Booth. But now that they'd both returned to their former jobs, Craig was an inadequate substitute for the man she wanted.

Which was unfortunate since he didn't want her back. So he'd keep showing up, pushing himself into her life, just to remind her what she couldn't have.

Perhaps there was someone else out there for her if she opened herself up enough to find them.

Booth shrugged at her question, walking around her office, touching this and that. He needed to pick her up for an interview in the morning, information he could have relayed by text. But he wanted to see her face, hear her voice as she talked to him.

Maybe with some context clues, he could figure out exactly what was going on.

Because something wasn't right, his gut was telling him. Somewhere, in the time they'd been apart, there had been another misstep. Something that had been more devastating than the night outside Sweets' office.

He had told her he'd move on and he hadn't. Bones had never been one to just bring a guy home, especially in the last several years, and had. They were still out of step and he didn't know what to do to get them back on track again.

Meeting Craig was a bad idea and Booth hoped he never would. He hated the guy on principle for taking the one thing Booth loved most in the world. Maybe Craig would have a secret criminal past and Booth could arrest him. Maybe he'd resist arrest. Booth's fingers twitched at the thought of getting to take a swing at the man.

She watched him from behind her desk, trying to understand what he was doing.

"Booth," Brennan tried again when several minutes passed with no word from him. "I really have to get going."

"To Craig?" he asked, grimacing as the words left his mouth. Booth couldn't seem to stay away from her. Even when she was going home to another man. He had to come to terms with her new boyfriend or this was never going to work.

"Yes, Booth, to Craig," Brennan said. "I'm having dinner with him." But she wasn't, but Booth didn't need to know that, didn't need to know she was breaking up with a guy because of him.

He managed to not flinch at her words, but it was close. After another minute of pacing her office, he finally sat on the couch she kept there. He knew there were nights she'd slept on it, when cases kept her well past quitting time. It had been some time since that was required, however, and he was weirdly disappointed the fabric no longer smelled faintly of her.

"You know," he said, leaning back and fiddling with his tie, "you still haven't told me his last name. Makes it hard to do a background check."

She glared at him and he laughed softly. She looked at that smile and finally gave him one in return. "You don't need to do a background check, Booth. He's harmless."

And Brennan realized with a start that was the perfect word to describe Craig. He would never hurt her physically, and if he tried, she could easily take care of herself.

Emotionally, Craig was harmless as well. Stay or go, Craig wasn't going to leave a metaphorical scar on her heart.

Not the way the man in front of her had.

"Harmless, huh?" Booth asked. Brennan wasn't surprised that he had picked up her use of that word, just as she had. "Not into danger anymore, Bones?"

Had Booth been dangerous? Definitely, Brennan decided. He'd led her into dangerous situations, then made sure she arrived home safely.

And the danger to her heart had been too high to measure.

Even now, Brennan wasn't totally recovered from the damaged he'd done and doubted she ever would be.

Brennan finished packing her bag before coming over and sitting on the couch with him. She carefully positioned herself at the opposite end, as far from Booth as she could get. "My life has been very quiet the last eight months. Not much danger to be found on Maluku. Quite different from yours, I'd imagine."

Was that the deciding factor? Was it the danger that had forced Bones to say no? Had she feared losing him too much to totally let herself love him?

She had first hand experience of the feeling that came with his death, even if it had been a mistake. Was that what she remembered when she looked at him, the pain of loss?

How did he make her understand the pain of loss came with the joy of living or loving someone?

The doors to the past, it seemed, could be shut, but never locked.

"It wasn't always dangerous," Booth hedged, and as expected, Brennan didn't press him for more information. She knew what was private, and what wasn't, at least when it came to his service.

"I worried," Brennan admitted softly, playing with the strap of the bag that rested next to her. "I worried a lot. But communication was inconsistent on Maluku, as I imagine it was for you."

Is that why he hadn't answered? Because he didn't have a way to? But, she mentally shook her head. Mail always got in and out, no matter what.

Booth nodded, not looking away from her face. He wasn't sure this was a conversation he was ready to have with her. "I understand, Bones." He'd worried, too, when he didn't hear from her. But he'd assumed she'd just needed to step back from him and he didn't want to infringe on her space, if that's what she needed.

What a colossal mistake that had been.

"For some time we had a satellite phone, but that was for emergencies only. I didn't talk to anyone from here the entire time I was gone." That was how she'd ended up with Craig. He'd been the only one willing to take the time to try and talk with her.

He'd seen a lonely woman and taken advantage. But Brennan had let him. Because it was easier than dealing with the pain.

A safe port when she'd been lonely. Brennan had been alone many times in her life, but she couldn't ever remember being as lonely as she had on that island.

"So it wasn't just me?" Booth tried to joke. A small part of him was relieved that he hadn't been the only one she'd ignored.

Brennan wanted to ask about the letters, but pressed her lips together instead. If he wasn't going to mention them, neither was she. It was better that way. Leave the rejections in the past where they belonged and perhaps they would move on and find a new normal.

But he sat on her couch, looking at her the way he always had, and Brennan was confused. He hadn't replied to those two notes, making it clear he'd moved on, but Booth certainly wasn't looking at her like a man who'd moved on.

He had that look she'd spent several years trying to pretend she didn't recognize. The one she'd walked away from.

The one, after he hadn't answered her letters, she hadn't expected to see again.

"No," Brennan said softly. "It was all of you."

"Why?" Booth heard himself ask. He didn't want to know, but he did. Why had she cut all of them off for eight months?

Should she ask him? Should she ask him why he hadn't responded to either of her letters? He was making it sound like he hadn't heard from her, but he had. She'd written him twice. She was the one who hadn't heard from Booth.

Booth had cut off all communication, not her.

She opened her mouth to ask, but shut it abruptly when her phone rang. Jumping to her feet, she dug it from her bag and had a short conversation with the person at the other end.

"Craig?" Booth asked when she ended the call, wondering what she was about to say before they'd been interrupted. But the moment had passed and he knew there'd be no more intimate conversations with her this evening.

"Yes," she answered, shoving the phone back in her bag. "Wanted to know if I was on my way."

Standing, Booth shoved his hands in his pockets. "We have an interview tomorrow," he said, finally getting to the reason he'd come to her office to begin with. "I'll pick you up at your house." At least, he hoped that's where she'd be in the morning.

She didn't want to be alone with him, just the two of them in his car, driving from her apartment like nothing had changed.

"I'll drive myself in," she said. "You can pick me up here."

"I always pick you up at your place when we have an early interview," Booth argued, angry that she was finding another way to push him away from her. Even knowing that it had to happen for her relationship to have any chance of succeeding.

"I don't need you to watch out for me, Booth," Brennan responded, her voice also rising. "I never did. I am perfectly capable of getting myself to work."

"And you have Craig now, right?" Booth asked. His voice was sarcastic, placing extra emphasis on the interloper's name.

"Yes, I have Craig," Brennan snapped. For the next several hours, anyway. "At least he wants me around."

She tried to leave, only to have Booth reach out and grab her arm. She stared down at his hand, before looking back toward him. "Let me go, Booth," she ordered.

Dropping his hand, he moved to prevent her from easily getting past him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I want you around. I'm trying to pick you up for the interview tomorrow, remember?"

But again, she refused to answer and Booth started to wonder what secrets she was keeping. "You don't need me to go on the interview. Take Sweets." Was it possible to push someone away so much, that it became impossible to ever take a step forward again?

She tried to leave and again he stopped her by stepping in her path. She sighed angrily, but stepped back, tapping her foot in annoyance.

"Are we still partners, Bones? Or should I look for someone new to work with you?" It killed him to say the words, but if that's what she wanted, he'd give it to her. Right before he put in the papers requesting a transfer.

First, she wouldn't be available to do paperwork. Then, she didn't want to go on interviews with him. How the hell could they be partners if they didn't actually work together?

Brennan blinked, shocked by the question, except she should have seen it coming. One day back to work and he was already looking for a way to get away from her.

"I won't work with anyone else, Booth," she said, and she meant it. No one had ever been able to work with her successfully before Booth and she knew no one would be able to if he left. "Besides, you seem to be the one walking away lately. So I would say if anyone would come to that conclusion, it should be you."

"I've never walked away from you, Bones," Booth said, suddenly deflated. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Damn it, he loved her. Couldn't she see that?

But even if she could, it obviously didn't matter, because she no longer wanted him. She had Craig now.

Maybe he should follow her to the hotel, just to get a look at this guy, see what Brennan had found that was so much better than what he offered.

"You just tried. And you did, six months ago," she snapped, forcing his attention back to the conversation.

"Six months?" he repeated, but to empty space, because she had used his momentary distraction to walk away from him, leaving him to wonder if she'd misspoken.

But Bones was always precise with her words, rarely making a mistake. She could use big words, be confusing to those around her, but rarely was she wrong.

Which left Booth to wonder exactly what had happened six months ago, and what part he'd played in it. And how the hell he'd done it when he'd been half a world away.


	9. Chapter 9

Brennan carried her anger all the way to Craig's hotel, where he waited for her in the lobby. She paused just inside, knowing it had to be done.

"Craig," she said, stopping just out of his reach. She hooked a hand around the strap of her purse, hitching it higher on her shoulder. "I think we should go sit down for a minute." It had been right there, the desire to blurt out the truth as she had with Booth, but she'd stopped herself, remembering his reaction.

"Of course," he said. Motioning her toward a table already set for breakfast the following morning, Craig waited for her to sit before joining her. "What's wrong?"

Over his shoulder, she could see traffic passing on the street out front. It gave her a place to focus her eyes. "I don't think we should see each other anymore." When the last word fell into the silence between them, she finally brought her eyes to his.

Leaning back, Craig crossed his arms over his chest. "We've been back in the city a week, and you've been back to work one day. Can I ask why you've suddenly decided I'm not someone you want around anymore?"

Except he wasn't surprised. Wasn't even that upset. He'd been thinking of leaving himself. She just beat him to it.

It had become apparent that whatever was starting between them on Maluku wasn't going to happen here. She was distant, cold, even more than she'd been on that island when she'd done everything possible to isolate herself. There, he could push himself into her world, knowing there was no place for her to retreat. Here, there were plenty of places for her to hide and in the last week, she had taken advantage of most of them.

She licked her lips. "I don't believe we are a good fit, Craig. You made comments indicating that you are threatened by my success here. I don't think that makes for a healthy relationship."

He couldn't disagree with her comment about success. He would never reach the heights she did and would, and Craig had to admit it bothered him. Still, it wasn't in him to give up that easily. "Perhaps if you were a bit more open with me, Temperance," he suggested. "I feel as if I know so little about you."

"And that's all you'll ever know," she said coldly. "My past is private."

Booth never pried, never pushed when it wasn't necessary. He let her open up in her own time.

Rising, Brennan clutched the bag she carried in front of her. There was nothing left for her to say and she refused to give him further opportunity to blame this on her. She'd heard it all before. "I would prefer that you not contact me again, Craig," she informed him.

"Now hold on," he said, also rising. "I asked if I should come back with you and you agreed it was a good idea. Now, after only a week, you're telling me it's over?" His voice was incredulous.

"It was an irrational decision," Brennan said bluntly.

Running a hand through his hair, Craig stared at her coldly, before finally nodding. "I suppose it's for the best. You weren't going to let me in anyway."

Brennan tilted her head, confused. "Let you in where?" she asked.

"You. You gave me nothing Temperance and after these months, I don't know you any better now than I did then. I don't know who the guy was, but he clearly has a hold on you, whether you want to admit to it or not."

Except Craig was pretty sure he did know. It was the FBI agent. The question was why she'd come back to DC, knowing the man who rejected her was not only in the city, but part of her everyday life? No man stood a chance against that.

She wanted to deny it, but couldn't. Everything he said was the truth.

When no response came, he nodded for a second time. "I suppose this is good-bye. Good luck, Temperance, it was fun while it lasted."

"I am sorry," she said softly as he brushed past her.

Craig paused but didn't turn. "So am I," he finally said as he continued to walk away.

Watching him go, Brennan also rose and left the lobby. She drove to her apartment on auto-pilot, her mind on other things.

Most of those things were Booth.

She wasn't brave enough, she knew, to ask Booth about the letters. Not unless he pushed her. Considering Brennan wasn't even sure he received them, the chances of that seemed pretty slim.

Desperately, she wanted Angela to be correct, that Booth hadn't walked away from her, but didn't comprehend how she could be. Booth didn't care for her that way anymore.

Her hands shook as he unlocked her door and secured it behind her. Even though the night had barely begun, Brennan put on her pajamas and took a magazine into her bedroom. It wasn't until she tried to read that she realized she couldn't see the words.

Because she was crying. But, if anyone had asked, she wouldn't have been able to verbalize exactly what it was she cried over.

BbBbBb

He shouldn't have followed her, he knew that, but it hadn't been enough to stop him from doing it.

Parked across the street, coffee in hand, he'd watched her enter the lobby of the hotel, but not before she'd paused and obviously squared her shoulders. Bones had looked like she was preparing for attack and it set Booth's nerves on edge.

Who exactly had she brought home with her?

No more than ten minutes later, Booth watched a tall man exit the hotel and enter the bar next door. While he had no proof, Booth was sure it was Craig.

Booth's nerves wound themselves even tighter when Bones didn't appear for several more minutes. When she did, Booth watched her walk to her own car and disappear toward her apartment.

The coffee cup went into the console as Booth exited the car and entered the bar.

Craig sat alone and while there were plenty of empty stools, Booth sat to his immediate left. A quick conversation and the exchange of cash had a beer appearing in front of Booth.

This was the man his Bones had brought home? He was skinny and pale, clearly a man who'd spent most of his time behind a desk and hadn't done any real work in his life.

Harmless, she'd called him and Booth was in agreement with that assessment. Craig wouldn't survive a day doing the job Bones did. Booth found it hard to believe he'd managed to survive Bones' high standards this long. And that was before he'd heard the guy say a word.

With a sideways glance, Booth watched Craig down most of the drink in front of him. Given the lack of weight or muscle on the guy, Booth figured it wouldn't take more than two or three before he'd be smashed.

If Booth had his way, the smashing would have nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with his fist connecting with Craig's face.

As tempting as it was, the thought of Caroline having to rescue his sorry ass from the local prosecutor kept him from doing it.

"Rough day?" Booth asked.

An annoyed glance was shot his way. "I'm not talking about it with some cop who just walked in off the street."

"Fair enough," Booth said evenly, taking a small swallow of his own drink. The only way he was going to stay in control was to stay sober.

"I know who you are," Craig continued after a moment. "You're Temperance's partner. I've seen your picture."

Booth nodded. "I am." How much had Bones said about exactly what their partnership was? Knowing how private she was, Booth figured Craig knew almost nothing about their partnership or their history during the last several years.

Craig refused to turn and look at him. "Are you checking up on her?"

Was he? Perhaps. Or perhaps he was just trying to answer some of the questions that just kept rattling around his own head.

Like what this man had that Booth didn't? Because Booth certainly couldn't see much.

There was a chance Craig had a higher IQ than he did, Booth supposed. But Bones had never put stock in that sort of thing. He wasn't better looking and Booth thought he could use a good haircut.

Had she really been so lonely she'd resorted to this? How bad had the choices been on that island?

Harmless, Bones had described him, and Booth wondered if that had been part of the attraction. With Craig, she could hide. Booth had always seen her for who she was.

And loved her because of it.

"Does she need checking up on?" Booth asked. He thought they were supposed to be going to dinner. Had Craig done something to cause her to cancel?

"I doubt it," Craig said, finishing his drink and signaling for another. "But I think you've known her a lot longer than me. Do you think she would like you checking up on her?"

Bones would be pissed, but not surprised to find out he'd done this. "Thought you guys were going to dinner?"

"She changed her mind," Craig said. "Listen, is there something you actually want. Because since my evening's freed up, I'd like to spend it doing something other than playing twenty questions with an overly concerned cop hanging out next to me."

His hand tightened around the glass, the only outward sign of Booth's annoyance. This guy was nothing more than a skinny academic, not even worthy of the Squint nickname he'd bestowed on the valuable members of his Jeffersonian team. Craig would not be a part of his family. Was Bones so intent on moving on that she couldn't see that?

"Then I'll leave you to your evening," Booth said, pushing his half empty glass away from him. Hands in his pockets, Booth turned to leave before turning back around. "I suppose it goes without saying that if you hurt her, even Dr. Brennan won't be able to prove I did it."

Craig didn't even turn his direction after the clearly implied threat. It made Booth want to haul him from the stool and slam him against the wall. Only the respect, and love, he had for Bones kept him from laying hands on the guy.

But, oh, how he wanted to.

Finally, Craig moved just enough to look in his direction. "Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about from me."

BbBbBb

Brennan awoke suddenly, her face turned toward the ceiling. The dreams, which had become more vivid since her return, had woken her again.

Almost immediately, her thoughts turned to Booth. In the past, her hand would have reached automatically for her phone, to have a soundless conversation what would help to settle her again. But they were so far apart right now, she feared any communication from her wouldn't be welcome.

She should have told him she planned to break up with Craig, but she was having a hard time reconciling Booth's rejection, the way he was acting toward her, and her current feelings. It seemed wrong to give him that power over her when he hadn't responded to not one but two letters where she confessed her feelings to him. But still, it seemed her happiness was contingent on him.

Rolling, Brennan turned on the light to make it easier to find her clothes and bag. She had no more hope of sleeping, but she could always go to the Lab and work until exhaustion overtook her.

It was the work of a moment to dress, put her shoes on her feet, and quietly leave the apartment. The conversation with Craig had gone exactly as she expected: confusion and then anger. Craig had blamed their failed connection on her and Brennan felt that he was correct. At no point during the last six months had she shared anything personal with him. In fact, the more they were together, the less Brennan looked forward to doing just that. The breakup meant she would never have to.

But to push him away meant there was nothing and no one standing between her and Booth and she wasn't ready for that either.

In her car, Brennan pulled out her cellphone and stared at the dark screen, debating her next move, before finally forcing the screen to come to life. She didn't like the way her conversation with Booth had ended earlier, and to be honest the whole thing had raised more questions than answers.

As she'd left her office, Brennan caught the look of confusion on his face at the mention of walking away six months ago. There was a small voice in the back of her brain, one she was trying desperately to ignore, that questioned whether any of her letters had actually arrived in his hands. And if they hadn't, what did that mean?

Which was a ridiculous question, because she knew exactly what it meant. It meant Booth hadn't chosen to walk away from her after all. It meant that there was, potentially, still a chance to rectify the mistake she felt she made on the steps of the Hoover.

But to find out, Brennan would have to ask him. And if the letters had arrived, and he had made that choice, she was opening herself up to that pain again. Once had been enough, she wasn't sure she could do it a second time.

There was a risk either way, and Brennan wasn't sure which one she wanted to take.

 _I'm sorry_

She looked at the words, her finger hovering over the send button. It was well after one in the morning, and he probably wouldn't still be awake. Yet, the way she'd left the conversation bothered her. Despite everything that was going on, Brennan didn't want to end their partnership. If she had been wrong, and the letters hadn't arrived, she needed to maintain that connection to him.

Her finger shook as she sent the message on.

Putting the car in gear, Brennan drove aimlessly, before finally taking several turns that would bring her to Booth's apartment. She parked around the corner, not wanting him to be able to see the car from his window, should he choose to look out.

Up in his apartment, Booth was in a position very similar to the one Brennan had woken up in: on his back, facing the ceiling. The difference was, he hadn't managed to fall asleep yet.

Instead, the conversation from her office played over and over in his head.

Especially the comment about six months ago, which he desperately hoped, had simply been a mistake on her part.

Except he knew it wasn't.

It was a clue to whatever had happened that had fully driven her from him. It had led her to another man.

Booth just didn't have a clue what that event could be. Six months ago he was in the middle of a desert. She had been on a tropical island. So far apart they hadn't spoken. The possibilities seemed both limited and endless.

Grabbing the phone when her tone sounded, Booth read and reread the message, knowing she was apologizing for the way they'd left each other earlier and wishing she apologized for other things.

But he didn't want Bones to feel guilty. She'd told him no and had a right to move on.

Except none of this felt right, and it wasn't because she'd come home with some guy Booth hated just on principle.

Bones was keeping a secret from him, and Booth needed to find out what it was.

Her phone lit up after several minutes, long enough to think that she'd probably woken him up.

Something else to add to the list.

 _Nothing to b sorry 4_

Smiling slightly, Brennan shook her head. Of course, he'd say that. But she was sure there was plenty for her to apologize for. If each thing on the list was a chapter, she was pretty sure there was enough material to fill her next novel.

 _I don't want you to find me a new partner_

It was one of her greatest fears after leaving the office. Had she returned, only to have Booth break up the partnership? If that were to happen, Brennan wasn't sure what she'd do.

This message was even faster than the last.

 _I won't unless u want me 2_

Except he wasn't sure he could keep that promise.

His use of numbers instead of words always fascinated her. She'd never been able to learn to shorten words in texts, something Booth harassed her for constantly.

 _I don't want you to. You can pick me up for the interview in the morning._

The delay was longer this time and Brennan wondered if he'd changed his mind.

 _Unless you want to go with Sweets_ she added when no reply came.

In his apartment, Booth ran his hand through his hair, trying to frame a reply. He finally gave up and asked the question.

 _At Craig's?_

In her car, Brennan understood the delay and frowned. She should have told him where in the earlier text.

 _No. At the Lab_

Which was where she'd be going in the morning, after this conversation ended and she no longer sat outside of Booth's apartment like some kind of stalker. Because she was going home after this, not to the lab. Even if she was alone in her apartment, she was no longer alone. She had Angela and Hodgins and Cam. Any would help her if she found herself in need of advice or friendship.

And, despite everything, Brennan was sure she still had Booth.

It wasn't like it had been in Maluku. Closing herself off like that had been her choice, one she'd come to regret.

 _R u home now?_

 _No_

At that response, Booth rose to his feet and looked out the window, but the street outside of his apartment was empty. It seemed silly to look, but he felt like she was close. Knowing there were only so many places she would be, he took the most logical guess while reaching for his pants.

 _Lab?_

It was one in the morning. If she didn't know enough to go home and get some sleep, Booth would remind her. And she did say to pick her up there in the morning, which meant she was probably sleeping on the couch in her office.

But she'd said she was having dinner with Craig and now she was at the lab. What had happened between them?

He chastised the little voice that hoped Craig had decided to skip town.

 _I'm fine_

Reaching for a t-shirt, Booth stared at the phone. Either she was in the lab and didn't want him to come, or she really wasn't there and didn't want him to know her location. Both scenarios came with their own set of concerns.

 _Where r u?_

 _Almost home_

She felt a little bad for lying, but consoled herself with the fact that she wasn't that far from her place. To assuage her guilt, she put her car in drive, but didn't actually take her foot off the brake. She'd go back home, instead of going back to the Lab. Booth would feel better if she were home.

 _Text me when u r in apartment_

Knowing she couldn't wait any longer if she wanted to prevent Booth from finding her parked just around the corner, Brennan put the phone on the seat next to her and pulled away. She hadn't needed to have this conversation with him while sitting outside his apartment, she could have stayed home, but would worry about what that meant later.

In his own place, Booth paced back and forth in the kitchen, waiting for her text. He knew how long it would take to get from the Lab to her home, and that time came and went without a text. He assumed she hadn't been at Craig's hotel when texting, so she wasn't coming from wherever he was staying.

Each minute that passed sent his blood pressure that much higher. He had no right to be this worried for her, except partners took care of each other. Booth could at least use that as an excuse.

He had his phone in his hand, ready to do something ridiculous, like put out an APB on her car, when the text came through.

 _I'm home_

 _R u actually in your place_

Booth asked, knowing she might only be in the driveway and needing to know she was safe.

 _Behind locked doors_

Relieved, he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a bottle of beer from his refrigerator. It was more stocked that it had been only the day before and he also grabbed some meat to make a sandwich. He might as well have a snack; he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

Not expecting to hear from Bones again, he was startled when his phone vibrated against he counter. Sandwich in one hand, he grabbed the phone from where he'd thrown it.

And set the sandwich down so he could brace himself against the counter.

 _Don't leave me again_

"I didn't leave you the first time," he grumbled. "We both left." But paired with her earlier comment about six months ago, Booth had the sudden fear he'd missed something important.

And that something, whatever it was, had led to their current situation.

The sandwich went on a plate and back into the refrigerator, his appetite suddenly gone. He debated, but finally sent back the only message he felt he could.

 _I won't_


	10. Chapter 10

In the early light of day, while making a cup of coffee, Brennan decided she was a lot more unhappy with her current situation than she realized. Cupboards were slammed closed and items tossed instead of placed carefully on counters.

Her short romance, started when she was at a weak point in Maluku, was over. Craig was certainly long gone by now. And while she tried to regret that, Brennan knew enough to realize it was the loss of the potential relationship and not the person she actually missed.

Who she missed was Booth.

And that was where the anger came from. He didn't want her now, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable with the thought of her spending time with anyone else.

Except, that annoying little voice reminded her, Booth might not have gotten your letters. Which means your conclusions are based on faulty logic.

The coffee went into a travel mug and the door firmly locked behind her while Brennan tried to decide what she needed to do. It really came down to only two options.

Confront Booth.

Don't confront Booth and continue on the path she was currently on.

Neither was easy or clear. Each came with its own risks.

The lab was still dark when she arrived and Brennan was thankful for the silence. For a few hours, maybe she could lose herself in her work and not think about anything but the bones in front of her.

Of course, it wasn't meant to be.

Booth arrived only an hour after her with what she thought was an annoyed look on his face.

"A body?" she asked, reaching for her coat. A body would give them a place to hide, a path back to old patterns and behaviors.

He paused just inside the door and watched her. She was angry, and he wondered if he was the cause.

"You okay, Bones?" he asked.

"No, I'm not. But I don't wish to discuss it with you," she said, falling back on her blunt honesty, hoping Booth would abide by her wishes.

His hand played with the objects in his pocket. "Is it me, Bones?"

Her hands buttoned her coat, not looking at him. "I told you I didn't want to discuss it with you. Please respect my wishes."

"Bones, please," he said. "Don't do this."

Her eyes snapped up. "Don't do what, Booth? I told you I didn't want to talk about it with you. So I'm not doing anything."

"Pushing me away. You keep pushing me away and then sending me texts in the middle of the night asking me not to leave. I'm not sure of my place."

Neither was Brennan, but that wasn't the point.

"I've always been good at that, haven't I? I'm very good at pushing people away. Or not letting them in," she said, shaking her head at the recollection of Craig's words. "But I still don't want to discuss this with you."

"Stop putting yourself down," he snapped, angry at how she continued to perceive herself. "You let the important people in, Bones. Has Craig been saying those things to you?"

He wasn't his job to protect her from her own boyfriend, but he'd do it anyway. Booth just couldn't understand how she'd stay with a man who treated her that way, put her down like that, when she'd walked away from the chance to be with him.

And he would have defended her until his dying breath. Probably always would.

Her eyes flew to his. "Craig hasn't been saying anything to me. I am simply using evidence to come to that conclusion."

"What evidence?" Booth demanded.

"I am not discussing this with you," she said enunciating each word. "You are my partner and we talk about work. My personal life is personal."

And with those words, she drew a very clear line. Just as clearly, Booth stepped over it. "You never had any qualms about sharing your personal life with me before. What don't you want me to know, Bones?"

"Are you here for anything other than harassment? Because if you aren't, there's the door." She motioned toward the exit, took off her coat and sat back down.

Booth also sat down, refusing to make this easy on her. "Tell me how you met Craig."

She focused on her computer. "You know we met in Maluku, Booth. I drank too much wine and we enjoyed a lovely evening under a canopy of trees." She knew what she was implying and how Booth would take it. It hadn't actually happened that night, or any night since, but the suggestion was there.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him flinch. It wasn't in her to be cruel, but she wasn't ready to ask him about the letters yet. What she wanted, was for him to leave her office. "I thought that's what you wanted, Booth. Me to share my personal life with you."

The words were meant to push him away, he knew that. But they still hurt like a shot to the chest. He had assumed they had a physical relationship, she was a beautiful woman after all, but to have her actually confirm it was too much.

His brown eyes clashed with hers and she dared him to say something with just the look. So he did.

"I'm glad your happy with him," Booth said. "I'm glad you've found a way to move on." Because he hadn't and didn't think he ever would. The two of them, together every day, was never going to work.

Her eyes closed slowly and she took a deep breath before reopening them to focus on his face. He'd forced her to move on, hadn't given her a choice. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn about it? "Why are you here, Booth? Do we have a case or not? If you're here for the interview, it seems early for that."

"We don't have a new case," he finally said, watching her shoulders drop in relief at the change in topic, "and we don't have one now. The interview isn't for several more hours." He'd put in for a transfer that afternoon, before a new one came in. The skeleton they were currently working on could be assigned to another agent.

He'd leave so she could be happy. Eventually, time would lessen what he felt for her and that would be easier if she wasn't always right in front of him.

And pigs would fly when hell froze over.

"What could be so bad that you would rather have a case to work on?" she asked, her head tilted just slightly as if confused by something in his tone. He sounded like he'd given up on something. But it couldn't have been her. He'd done that six months ago when her letters went unanswered.

His eyes turned even darker. Losing you was what he wanted to say. "Sweets wants to see us."

BbBbBb

Sweets steepled his fingers in front of his face and stared at the two people sitting on the couch across from him. Something was clearly wrong, if body language was anything to go by.

"How are things since you came back?" Sweets asked, deciding to start out slowly. "It can be tough to reconnect after you've been apart for so long."

Booth played with his tie and stared at his feet. Brennan turned her blue eyes toward him, but they were void of emotion and Sweets knew she was doing everything in her power to hide from him.

Or from Booth.

They sat at opposite ends of the couch, as far apart physically as they could get. Metaphorically, the might as well have been on opposite sides of the country. Or the opposite side of the world, as they'd been for most of the past year.

Their bodies were together, but the rest of them were as far apart as ever.

"Fine," she said. Her eyes flicked to Booth and then back to Sweets. "He's the one having issues."

Which was causing her issues. Her relationship with Craig was over before it had really begun. Booth didn't want her, but he didn't want anyone else to have her.

She worried coming back here had been another on the list of colossal mistakes she'd made in the past year.

Sweets shifted his attention. "Are you having issues, Agent Booth?"

"Nope," came the quick response, "no issues here." Booth turned angry eyes toward Brennan before shifting his attention back to his feet again. After a moment, he brought up and ankle to rest on his knee, the foot in the air wiggling nervously.

"It's clear," Sweets said into the tense silence, "that something has happened between the two of you since you came back. Is it because Dr. Brennan brought someone home with her? Or are you having a hard time adjusting to working together again?" Cam had called him yesterday and filled him in on the little she knew, which led him to inviting the partners to his office this morning.

It was Booth who met his eyes this time and Sweets read anger there, as well as pain. Clearly, he was heading in the right direction. "Bones is allowed to date whoever she wants. We are just partners." The familiar line Booth had been repeating to himself since she'd dropped the bomb of meeting someone into his lap. "Besides, this is probably a good time to tell both of you I'm putting in for a transfer this afternoon."

The silence in the room was deafening. Booth refused to look toward his soon to be ex-partner, instead choosing to watch the panic fly through Sweets' eyes. So much for his book. The final chapter could be all about how the partnership, and the friendship, fell apart.

"Why would you do that?" Brennan asked, softly. "Why are you doing this?" Only to take a breath and immediately change her mind. "Perhaps that's for the best."

"It's the only way you have a chance to be happy with Craig, Bones. I am a hinderance if I stay," Booth said, unnerved that she'd agreed with him so easily.

But Sweets was frantically shaking his head. "The two of you have dated other people before. What's different this time?"

"Craig and I are no longer together," Brennan said coolly. Why bother hiding it at this point? Their relationship, or whatever it had been, was over.

Her eyes were staring away from both of them after Booth's shocking announcement and she missed the moment of wild glee that flew through his eyes.

On the inside, the alpha male was screaming in victory. A couple of days back and she'd already sent the guy packing. The more logical part of him noted her lack of emotion, the clinical tone her voice had taken, and it worried him.

Combined with the anger in her office and Brennan clearly blamed him in some way for the break-up in her relationship. But Booth had been careful not to interfere. At least, he thought he had.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said, managing to sound sincere even when he wasn't. No matter what happened, it killed him when Bones hurt.

And Booth had a feeling he was partially the cause.

She shrugged and finally turned toward Sweets. "Is this really necessary? I don't want to be here."

Sighing, Sweets couldn't lie. "It's not required, no. But," he said sharply as the two people started to get to their feet, "I'm very concerned about what I'm seeing here today."

As if knowing they weren't going to get out of the office that easily, Brennan sagged back into her corner of the couch. Booth looked down at her, before finally doing the same.

"You two are clearly angry at each other," Sweets explained. "And you aren't communicating, either. In fact, this feels like the worst you two have ever been with each other. Agent Booth just announced he was putting in for a transfer and you agreed with him, Dr. Brennan. Am I wrong?"

Two pairs of eyes stared at him, but neither owner spoke.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sweets continued. "I'm worried about what I'm seeing here and would like to help if you would let me."

"You weren't that worried a year ago, when you were successful at getting Booth to break the stalemate," Brennan snapped. "We are where we are now because of that. Things were fine the way they were. You claim your science is supposed to help, but it doesn't."

"Were things fine the way they were, Dr. Brennan?" Sweets challenged, ignoring the slight to his career. It was nothing he hadn't heard before.

Her eyes darted to Booth and back. "I was happy," she admitted. "Probably the happiest I'd ever been."

He'd been happy, too, Booth thought, but not satisfied. He'd wanted more with her. Despite what Bones thought, things couldn't have continued that way forever.

"And now?" Sweets asked. "Are you happy, Dr. Brennan?"

She sighed. "I'm happy to be home."

Sweets nodded. "That's a very safe answer, Dr. Brennan. Are you happy to be back around people you once considered good friends? In fact, I'd go so far as to call them your family. Are you happy to be back with them?"

Again, her eyes darted toward her partner. "It's harder than I thought it would be."

"Me," Booth said softly, not looking at her. "It's hard to see me."

Surprised at the comment from the usually stoic agent, Sweets waited for Brennan to respond. When she didn't, he stepped in. "Is Agent Booth correct, Dr. Brennan?"

Licking her lips, Brennan nodded. "I thought it would be better after a year ago. After you pushed him, Dr. Sweets."

"Perhaps, that was a mistake," Sweets allowed. "But surely what it happening now isn't a reflection on that night. It was almost a year ago, time you spent away from each other. That should have given you time to reflect and come to terms with what happened." Not that he knew exactly, but he could make assumptions.

"You said no," Booth reminded her, unable to stop himself. The last thing Sweets needed was more ammunition to force some sort of confession, but Booth was not going to allow her to try and lay the whole thing at his feet or Sweets. All three of them had a part in it. "Part of the reason we are where we are is because you said no."

In his chair, Sweets nodded. Booth's words were confirmation of something he and the rest of the Jeffersonian team had all suspected. It was why Dr. Brennan had accepted the position on the Maluku Islands and Agent Booth had decided to go to Afghanistan.

She turned her eyes toward Booth and pinned him with a look. "I am not having this conversation in front of Dr. Sweets."

"You won't have this conversation at all," Booth snapped. He didn't disagree about the Sweets thing, but this was the closest he'd come to finding out the truth since the afternoon in her office. If a witness was what it took, so be it. "You've barely spoken to me since we returned to the states, other than dropping hints that I don't understand. You alternate between pushing me away and not wanting to let go."

He shifted positions, before finally rising to his feet to pace behind the couch she remained on. "I'm trying to give you space, Bones, but you don't want me to."

"I'll never get a chance to be happy here," Brennan declared suddenly. She could hear Booth behind her. "You aren't going to give me a chance to be happy." Glancing from one to the other, Sweets moved nothing but his eyes, afraid to distract them.

Booth pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, stopping just behind her. "I'll find you a new partner tomorrow," he offered, keeping his eyes closed. "And I'll put in for the transfer. If that's what you need to be happy, I'll give it to you. I'll step back so you can be happy."

Brennan flinched as if she'd been struck, but with his eyes closed, Booth missed it. "I thought we just agreed that was for the best," Brennan said.

Alarmed, Sweets shook his head. Her body language did not match her words. Something was wrong. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He'd be looking for a new job right along with Booth if this partnership fell apart in front of him. "I think we need to discuss this."

"I don't want a new partner," Booth stated, clearly enunciating each word. He opened his eyes finally and glared at Sweets. "And I don't want you using this to separate us. I'm offering to transfer because that's what I thought Bones wanted. What I think she wants."

Both hands went in the air. "I'm trying to fix whatever this is, Agent Booth, not find a way to break up your partnership."

"I do," Brennan announced loudly. "It's clearly what you want, Booth, and Sweets can give it to you."

"I don't want a new partner!" Booth yelled this time, to the shock of both Brennan and Sweets. Brennan turned to see his face. "I never wanted a new partner. Quit using me as an excuse to force us apart. You're hiding something from me, Bones, and this is the excuse you're using to keep it hidden."

Sweets watched as Brennen stood and turned to face Booth. Rising from his seat, he moved out of their line of sight, to at least give them the illusion of privacy. It was apparent this was the first honest discussion they'd had since seeing each other again and he was loathe to do anything to interrupt it.

"Then why do you keep mentioning it?" Brennan demanded of Booth. "If you don't want to get away from me, why do you keep suggesting it?"

"You just said I don't give you a chance to be happy. I thought that's what you wanted. For me to leave so you can be happy."

"Why would you give me what I want now, but not six months ago? Why would you want to make me happy now, but not then?" Brennan asked, alarmed to find that she felt like crying.

Booth blinked, then looked past her, suddenly remembering where they were. "Get out," he said, pointing at the door. "Go find someplace else to be." Whatever was happening would not continue to happen in front of Sweets. Either he left, or they would.

He was going to argue it was his office, that if anyone should leave, it wasn't going to be him. But one look at Booth had him nodding his head and grabbing his coat. "I have my phone if you need me," he offered unnecessarily, as Booth closed and locked his office door behind him.

"I also have my keys," he said, standing in front of the closed door before heading for the elevator. He could have let himself back in, pushed his way back into the situation, but chose not to. Those two had to figure it out on their own.

With the door closed and locked, Booth turned back around to see Brennan reaching for her bag. "Stop, Bones," he ordered. "We need to solve this or we aren't going to make it, as partners or even as friends."

Her hand froze in mid-motion, before she straightened and looked at him. She couldn't lose him as a friend, that was simply unacceptable. She waited, knowing what he was going to ask.

And knowing she was going to have to tell him the truth.

"I need to know why you keep talking about six months ago," Booth said, no longer yelling. He longed to reach for her, but the couch and whatever was going on, stood between them. "The first time I thought you made a mistake, but you've done it too many times for it to be that."

Her lips pressed together. Booth watched, knowing she was trying to decide whether to be honest with him, or walk away. "Did you get mail when you were in Afghanistan?" she asked.

Booth, unsure of what that had to do with anything, nodded. He was too familiar with her habits not to just follow along. She'd get to where she needed to go. And he was relieved she'd chosen to talk. "I got letters from Pops and Parker, of course. A package from Paris, once or twice. Nothing from anyone else."

"Nothing from me?" she asked softly, as the world fell from beneath her feet. Willpower kept her from sinking into the couch, forced to now change the one conclusion that had driven every decision she'd made since the night on the cliff, when she'd given up on the two of them.

Booth put both hands on the back of the couch. Finally, he felt like he was getting somewhere. "Should I have gotten something from you? About six months ago?"

Unable to speak, as she accepted the facts she'd built her entire life around for the last six months were wrong, Brennan nodded.

"How many?" Booth asked.

"Two," she said hoarsely, managing to find at least that one word.

"What did they say, Bones?" Booth asked.

But she was frantically shaking her head and reaching for her bag. "I need to go, Booth." When he didn't step back, she clutched the bag to her chest. "Please let me go."

But he didn't want to let her go. He wanted to know what was in the letters that she'd sent to him. Did he dare hope that she'd asked him to wait for her?

"Booth, please let me out of this office," she said again and while her voice was steady, her eyes swam with tears.

"We need to talk about what was in those letters, Bones," he argued.

"Not right now," she pleaded. "Just…give me a couple days."

Finally, he nodded. "But you have to promise me something."

Her eyes widened, but she waited.

"I'll give you the time if you promise we will talk. Face to face. Not over the phone or through some cryptic text messages."

Her nod was so slight he almost didn't see it, but it was there. With her promise in hand, Booth stepped back and let her pass. Her hands were steady as she unlocked the door, but her pace was rapid as she headed to the elevator.

Booth, finally realizing that something had happened, had one goal in mind.

He needed to find those letters.

Leaving a short note to reassure Sweets that both of them were still alive, Booth left and drove aimlessly for better than an hour, finally ending up back at his apartment. The interview he was supposed to go on had long been forgotten as he replayed her words over and over in his head. His brain had also started to fill in the gaps he didn't totally understand yet, only making the situation worse.

Booth slammed the door on his way out of the vehicle and took the stairs two at a time to his apartment. Inside, he retrieved the box he'd put all of his military gear in after his return to the states and started pulling items out haphazardly. There was a small pile of stuff next to him when he finally found what he searched for.

"Ramsay," Booth said three phone calls later, "how are you?"

"Booth," the man on the other line greeted jovially. Booth could picture him sitting with chair back, feet on the desk. "To what do I owe the honor of this call? Thinking of enlisting again?"

The question made Booth chuckle. The sound felt out of place, after the conversation with Bones. He'd made it very clear when he'd left this time that he'd never be a military man again. War was better left to the young. "Not a chance, but you know that. I was hoping you could help me with something?"

"Anything for you, Booth," was the response and Booth knew he meant it. Ramsay was the type of guy who would do anything to help out a friend.

"Is there any way to find out if some letters for me are still in Afghanistan?" Booth asked. Nervously, he toyed with some of the items sitting on the floor next to him

Ramsay hummed a response then fell silent. "I could make some calls," he offered. "Stuff arrives late all the time and then has to get sent back to the states. Other shit gets lost, misdirected if guys are moving around a lot. How many letters are we talking here?"

"Two. Both from a woman named Temperance Brennan."

"The author? You never mentioned you were friends with an author. Why didn't she send you some signed books or something for us?"

Booth sighed, unsure of how to explain. "We kind of," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "We kind of had a falling out before I left the states. She went to some islands in Maluku while I went to Afghanistan."

"Ohhhh," Ramsay said and managed to put complete understanding in that one word. "These letters are important then?"

"Extremely," Booth said, hoping that single word explained just how much. "But I don't even know if they were lost on our end or hers." Scanning across the room, his eyes fell on a picture of the two of them that remained on top of his dresser. Despite everything, he hadn't been able to put it away.

She had his arm around his shoulders, his around her waist. They were happy there, something that felt so far away, Booth wasn't sure he'd ever feel that way again. "I need these letters."

Something in Booth's voice came through the line, because Ramsay's voice became serious. "Give me a couple of days and a number to reach you at, Booth. I'll see what I can do."

Booth rattled off the number and thanked him before hanging up. Rising, he stepped over the debris on the floor to pick up the picture. He ran his finger over the two of them, before opening the top drawer of his dresser and putting it out of sight.

It would take a miracle to find those letters, and Booth didn't expect them to ever turn up. The picture was just a reminder of something he may never have a chance at again.


	11. Chapter 11

In her kitchen, she poured a glass of wine. Like Booth, she had been unable to go back to work and sought refuge in her apartment. But all she saw were the things Booth had touched, the items he'd left behind.

Taking a sip, she stood staring at nothing, building walls before her emotions could take over.

Because Booth hadn't received her letters. He hadn't walked away from her.

Again, it appeared she had done the walking, made a choice for both of them. She could have chosen to wait, to not attempt to date Craig and talked to Booth face to face.

There had been so many options and the choice she'd made had been the wrong one.

When she wasn't fast enough building her walls, and tears began to slip free, she drained the glass and picked up the phone. A minute of debate before she pulled up her contacts and dialed a number.

And felt like she was breaking a promise. Once again, she was going to leave.

"David," said a voice at the other end and despite the name, Brennan knew she had the right number.

"Dad?" she asked shakily.

At his end, Max threw his cards to the table and jumped to his feet. "Sweetie?" he said, avoiding her name. Real names weren't offered to the men he currently played poker with. "What's wrong?"

Brennan swallowed hard, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Her father was not her first choice, they weren't really that close given their history, but he was the only one who wouldn't push her as she tried to figure all this out. "How far away are you?"

"From where you live?" Max said, continuing to be vague. "Not very far. Are you in trouble?"

Brennan ignored the question. "I need you to get me out of here for the weekend. Someplace where people can't find me." Her promise wouldn't be totally broken if she only left for the weekend, just stretched a little bit. She'd talk to Booth face to face eventually.

Motioning to the other men, Max started scooping up his winnings. There was some grumbling, but the men at this table asked no questions and understood that sometimes other situations took priority. "Is someone trying to kill you?"

"No, Dad," Brennan said impatiently. "I just need to get out of town, but my life is not in danger."

"Where's your partner?" Max demanded. If she was in some sort of trouble, Booth should be her first line of defense.

"Will you help me or not, Dad?"

Her failure to acknowledge Booth had Max straightening in shock. "He's not dead, is he?"

"Dad," was her response. "Booth is not dead, and I am not in any physical danger. Can you help me?"

Max had learned to read people during his long life. And everything his daughter wasn't saying was just as interesting as everything she was. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get any answers then, Max dug his keys from his pocket. "I'll be there," he promised. "Pack a bag."

She appeared at the passenger door before he could turn off the ignition. She carried a small bag and nothing else.

"If you don't want to be found, you need to leave your phone behind," Max said gruffly, stowing the bag in the trunk with his own luggage. "Your computer woman could find us no matter where we go if you take that thing."

"Her name is Angela," she said, getting into the car. "And I left it on my table after I sent her a message." The two weeks she'd spent thinking Booth was dead had taught her multiple lessons. One was not to let people worry unnecessarily. So she'd sent one text, explaining she'd be gone for the weekend. And ignored the increasingly frantic messages asking where she was going. "Along with every other piece of electronics I own. I didn't even bring the electric tooth brush."

Max glanced toward her in surprise. "Was that a joke?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"Can you tell me what's going on?" Max asked. His daughter looked…overwhelmed, he decided as he pulled into traffic. "Did Booth hurt you? Did something happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Dad," she said, turning her face to stare out the window. "I just need to get away from everything for a few days."

He stared as long as he dared, until driving forced him to focus on the road. "I have the perfect place for us to go. Your mother and I went there once and it's very private. No one should find us unless you want them to."

"I don't want them to," she said bluntly. "Just make it so no one can find me."

Miles passed as Max alternated between relief that his daughter would call him for help and worry over her current state of mind. Twice, he'd caught her wiping at her cheeks, and Tempe crying scared him more than the few words she'd said to him.

They were only two hours from the city when Max pulled up to the cabin, but it was as isolated as a place two days away. She made no effort to hide the look of relief in her eyes.

"This is perfect. Who does it belong to?" she asked.

"A friend," Max answered vaguely. "The kind who lets me use it when I need it," he explained to Brennan's questioning look.

The fact that so little of an explanation satisfied her just made him even more worried.

"There are two bedrooms in the back, and a master upstairs," Max said as he unlocked the door. "Why don't you take that one? There is a balcony off the back that faces the forest. Good place to do some thinking."

Shifting her bag higher on her shoulder, Brennan nodded. "I think I'll take a shower and take advantage of the privacy." She started up the stairs, only to pause and look back at him. "Thanks, Dad," she offered quietly.

"Anything for you. Tempe," he called just before she made it to the top, "I'm here if and when you're ready to talk."

She smiled sadly. "I know."

Max, knowing he could do nothing else for the moment, moved on to more practical matters. "There's a store not far from here that tourists use for basic supplies. I'll go get us some things to get us through the next few days."

"I'm a vegetarian," she reminded him.

"I know that. I'll get things you like."

Max waited until she disappeared around the corner and could hear the shower running before heading back to his car. Opening the trunk, he opened the secret compartment he'd installed several months ago and pulled out a black bag. Inside, were several burner phones, along with several weapons. Selecting a phone, he put the bag back before entering the car and starting toward the store. He'd pick up food and while he was there, start figuring out what the hell was going on with his daughter.

"She's not here," Booth said into his phone, walking around Brennan's empty apartment. Moving toward the bedroom, he peered inside her closet. "And I think her overnight bag is gone."

Angry, frustrated with both himself and Brennan, Booth ran a hand through his hair. "No, Angela, you aren't going to look for her. She sent you a text and told you she was leaving for the weekend. We're going to trust that she'll be back on Monday."

"Yes, Angela, if I hear anything I'll let you know," Booth reassured her, before hanging up the phone and sliding it back in his pocket. On the table, taunting him, sat her abandoned cell phone.

Despite what he'd told Angela, Booth was terrified. He wouldn't put it past Bones to just take off but her message indicated she was coming back Monday. And she'd promised, damn it, to talk to him face to face. Bones wasn't one to break promises, at least, she hadn't in the past. Picking up her phone, Booth powered it on and accessed her call history, only to see it had been erased.

Now what was Bones trying to hide?

Pulling out a chair, he sat at her table, spinning her phone in his hand. Every now and again, the corner of the phone tapped against the table, the sound jarring in her otherwise silent apartment.

"Where the hell are you, Bones?" he asked, breaking that silence. "What the hell are in those letters? Did you ask me to wait for you, or ask me to never come back?" Each question was punctuated by the tapping of the phone on her table.

When his phone rang, Booth answered without checking the screen. "Booth."

"What is going on between you and my daughter?" Max demanded.

"Max?" Booth asked. "Is that you?"

"Are you messing with someone else's daughter?" At the store, Max relaxed casually against his car, watching people come and go. He'd parked in a far corner of the lot, where he could be watch without being noticed. It was also remarkably close to a river, the future resting place of the cell phone he had in his hand.

Despite himself, Booth chuckled. "No, Max. I'm not messing around with anyone's daughter. Or your daughter, either." Max was a murderer and had gotten away with it, but Booth couldn't help but respect the old man.

However, he'd also managed to disappear for more than a decade and if Bones asked him to, Booth knew he was more than capable of doing it again.

"You should be," Max grumbled just loud enough of him to hear. "You someplace you can talk?"

Looking around, Booth couldn't think of a better place. "Yeah, I'm alone. Nowhere near the Jeffersonian."

Max nodded. "I knew you were a smart guy. Now what's going on between you and Tempe?"

"Is she okay?"

A long pause came before the answer. "Physically, she appears fine." A red car pulled into the station and Max watched two weary parents slowly exit the vehicle with two children who couldn't be more than six. "But she appears upset."

"Something happened in Maluku," Booth said. "I don't know what."

At his end, Max made a sound of disbelief. "You must know something." Max had been around a long time and trusted his instincts. Right now, they were telling him Tempe's problem revolved around the man at the other end of this call.

Booth sighed loud enough for Max to hear. After a quick internal debate, he gave Max the basics. "She wrote two letters. I don't know what they said because I never got them. That's all I'll give you. The rest is up to her."

Max could respect a man who kept secrets to protect someone. "Fair enough." The couple exited the store, weighed down by grocery bags. Both children carried their own small bags, probably filled with treats considering the smiles on their faces. For a moment, it was his family in front of him.

Shaking his head to dispel the memory, Max refocused on the conversation. "Don't trace this phone, Booth. It's a burner but those people my Tempe works with are geniuses. And I have a feeling you aren't far behind them in that department. I did promise her she wouldn't be found this weekend, though, and I'd like to keep that promise."

"Can you give me one in return?" Booth asked. He continued quickly, not giving Max a chance to refuse. "Can you make sure she comes back, even if she doesn't want to? Don't hide her on me, Max, please." It burned him to have to ask, to beg, but what else could he do.

"I'll do what I can," was all Max would give him. Because at the end of the day, Tempe desires would always come first for him. Max didn't wait for Booth's response before ending the call.

The family was pulling out of the store while Max went inside to get his own supplies. He wished it was as easy to bring a smile to Tempe's face as it had been to please those children.


	12. Chapter 12

There hadn't been much in the store that was vegetarian, but Max managed to find enough to get them through the weekend. He arrived back at the cabin as the sun was disappearing behind the trees. He sighed as he watched it set, allowing himself just a moment to miss his wife.

She would have known what to say to their headstrong, brilliant daughter. She'd always known just the right words to say to both their kids, no matter the situation. He'd always been jealous of the way she could reach them.

"Wish you could be here now," Max said, staring toward the darkening sky.

Because he didn't know what to say. Hell, he didn't even know what the problem was. He'd always been afraid for Tempe, afraid that she wouldn't be able to find her place in the world or friends that were like family. It had been a relief, when he'd finally forced his way back into her life, that she'd done better that he'd ever dared hope.

Those scientists in the Jeffersonian were as brilliant as she was. But even better than the respect they gave her, Max knew they truly cared for her. And Booth would give his life for her, of that Max had no doubt.

It hurt to think, to know, that he'd probably had very little to do with the success she'd attained. She'd been forced to do it entirely on her own. Russ was very aware of how Max felt about that particular situation.

The bruise or two Max had supplied in defense of his daughter hadn't taken long to fade, and he'd made sure to place them carefully. It might have been late in coming, but Max always made sure debts were paid.

Before taking everything inside, Max did a quick walk around the perimeter of the property. It was always good to know where the exits were, where a person could hide if it was necessary. Old habits died hard.

On the balcony, Max could see Tempe sitting in a chair. Leaning against a tree, he observed her for several minutes. She was definitely conflicted; despite their years apart, Max could still read her face and the emotions she displayed there.

Those blue eyes, so stormy, spent more time staring into the distance than anything else. Her mind worked at the speed of light, and Max knew his daughter was trying to think her way out of whatever situation she'd found herself in.

Five, ten minutes passed before Max completed his walk and grabbed the supplies from his trunk. After a moment to consider, he grabbed a second phone from the bag, along with a gun. He didn't expect to need the weapon, but he couldn't spend a night unprepared either.

Storing the food supplies in the kitchen, and the gun in his own bedroom, Max quietly climbed the stairs toward the room Brennan stayed in. She'd left the door open and Max could see her still sitting on the balcony, feet on the railing, continuing to stare out into the distance. On her lap, was a yellow notepad and every now again she wrote something down on it before going back to just watching. He wasn't sure if it had been there the whole time, or was something she'd retrieved while he was downstairs.

He knocked on the door as he joined her. "Nice view," he commented casually. He motioned down to the pad. "Taking notes for your next novel? I'm eager to see what adventures Agent Andy will go on next."

She blinked hard and looked at him. There was very little writing on the pad, and most of it was written in her version of shorthand, something her father would never be able to read. "You read my books?" she asked, as if the idea had never occurred to her before.

Max looked at his daughter knowingly. "Of course, I do. I've read every single thing you've ever written. Even the scientific stuff." Taking a seat next her, Max gave her an embarrassed smile. "I don't always understand the scientific stuff, even with my background, but I try. Some of your articles are pretty deep."

When he was gone, she'd receive a key to a storage container. Inside, Brennan would find a copy of every single thing he'd collected of hers over the years. That collection included copies of all her novels, including each time one was issued with a different cover. She probably wouldn't want any of it.

He'd wanted all of it. For a long time, it had been his only connection to her.

"That means a lot to me, Dad," Brennan said, before turning back toward the trees.

"You didn't notice it until just now, did you?" Max asked.

Looking back toward him, she tilted her head. "Notice what?"

"The view from here. Wait until it gets dark. I can spend the evening telling you the constellations like I used to when you were young." Max's face turned reflective as he remembered. "Of course, you probably know more of them than I do now."

Unsure whether to nod or shake her head in denial about what she'd noticed, Brennan shrugged. "I was thinking about other things. Other than the view, I mean."

She wasn't sure about the offer to look at the stars. It was a painful reminder of the childhood that had been torn away from her when her parents abandoned her. But Booth would have told her to make new memories to replace the painful ones. Memories she could look back on and enjoy.

No matter where she went, or what she did, thoughts of Booth always crept back in.

Max assumed a position similar to Brennan. "Are you ready to talk about why you called me out the blue to ask me to pick you up?"

"There's nothing to talk about," she denied, but it came out so awkwardly, the lie was clear. "I just needed a break."

Snorting, Max laughed. "You just came back from eight months on a tropical island. If that wasn't enough of a break, this weekend isn't going to do it for you. And quite honestly, Tempe, I would have thought Booth would be your first call for that sort of thing."

Picking up the pen, Brennan flipped to a blank page in her notepad and began to draw. "I'm not sure I should have come back," she admitted softly. "I've made some mistakes."

"Who hasn't?" Max asked, giving his daughter a brief glance before staring back into the trees. "You've never been good with change, even as a child. Has everything changed more than you expected it to?"

Everything had been so changed when he'd finally returned, it had been hard to reconcile the past with the present, but he'd worked hard to do just that. The relationship with his daughter had been more than worth it.

On the pad, bold lines were beginning to form the shape of a hand and forearm. "Booth told me things had to change, before we left."

"Did they?" Max asked, knowing he would have to be careful not to give away that he'd talked to the man only hours ago.

The arm headed toward a shoulder. "Yes," she said finally.

Turning, Max looked down at what she was creating. His daughter might not believe in certain soft sciences, but a psychologist would have a field day with what she was producing in her lap. "Did Booth ask you to change? Or did the situation need to change?"

A hint of anger flared in her eyes. "Booth respects who I am, Dad, he would never want me to change."

Had she said anything else, Booth never would have found her. "So the situation needed to change. Considering how unhappy you are, I think it did."

The pen paused, before continuing to put a head on the shoulder she'd created. Features began to appear on the face. "He wanted our relationship to change, I understand that now. That we couldn't keep circling each other, metaphorically. He asked me to take a chance on us," she admitted, "before he said that." It still made her uncomfortable to say it aloud. "I said no."

Max let out a low whistle. He was surprised and a little sad to hear she'd made that choice. "Do you still feel that way?"

Her father seemed like such an odd choice to share all of this with, before Angela or Cam or even Booth. But her friends couldn't see anything but their desire for her to end up with Booth. Her father, at least, seemed more neutral.

Brennan shook her head. "I wrote Booth to tell him I had reconsidered the decision I made. After that, it was clear he was no longer interested."

If the conversation he'd had earlier was any indication, his daughter had definitely made the wrong assumption there.

"Did Booth tell you he wasn't interested?" Max asked. "Did he actually say the words?" He'd turn himself in for several unsolved robberies if Booth had even hinted at not desiring the woman next to him.

"He didn't answer the letters," Brennan said. "But no, he never said the words." The head now had hair and a remarkably familiar face.

"What do you mean he didn't answer?" Max demanded, his voice rising in indignation. Shit, was he really going to have to turn himself in? Damn that Booth.

Her eyes never moved from the page in front of her. "I learned that the letters never arrived at their intended destination."

And with that simple sentence, most of the pieces fell into place.

"I don't think I need to tell you that you need to talk to Booth, honey," Max said, relieved he wouldn't have to sacrifice himself after all.

Brennan nodded but didn't speak.

Seconds turned into minutes as the silence stretched on. When it became apparent she wasn't going to continue, Max tried to fill the silence with what he hoped was good advice. As he opened his mouth, he sent a silent prayer to his wife to help him.

"Can this old man offer you some advice?" he asked, waiting until Brennan looked at him and nodded before continuing. "We all come to conclusions based on the evidence we have at the time. Without that ability, we'd all become stuck, unable to make decisions or do anything in our lives."

The pen had stopped and Brennan stared at him with fathomless blue eyes.

"When Booth didn't answer those letters, you made a decision, maybe a whole bunch of them. But you had to move forward. And he shouldn't be mad at you and you shouldn't be mad at yourself for doing what you thought you had to."

Reaching forward, Max took the hand not tightly gripping the pen inside both of his. "Mistakes can be fixed, Tempe, you and I are proof of that. You just have to make the effort."

Breaking the stare to look down at her hand, Brennan whispered, "I'm scared."

"So am I, every time I talk to you," Max said. "Afraid I'll make a mistake and make you angry with me. But I keep talking and I keep trying. You're worth it. You have to decide if Booth is worth the effort."

Pulling her hand away, Brennan rose quickly and Max knew the conversation was over. "I'll go look at what you bought and start dinner, " she offered, quickly exiting the porch before Max could speak again.

Sighing, unsure if he'd helped or made things worse, Max's gaze shifted to the notepad she'd left behind. On it was a figure, clearly Booth, reaching a hand toward the edge of the page. Just visible on that same edge, was a second hand, the fingertips just out of Booth's reach.

She set a casual meal out for both of them, much better than Max could have created himself. Despite the circumstances, he was thankful for the time he was getting to spend with his daughter.

Their relationship had come a long way since the day he'd reappeared in her life. She'd sacrificed a lot, risked a lot, to get them both to a place they could sit down for a meal together.

His wife had died in his arms that day so long ago, and there had been nothing he could do at the time to save her. It was a similar feeling to the one he'd experienced the day his daughter implicated herself on the witness stand to save him from a guilty verdict and the death sentence that would surely follow.

Wondering if she knew about the visit Booth had paid him the first night he'd been free made him pause so long in eating that Brennan looked at him questioningly. He gave her a reassuring smile before digging back in, figuring that if Booth had told her, she would have let it slip by now.

A lawman. It was hard to believe his daughter had fallen for an FBI agent, considering Max's history. At first, it had seemed like a cosmic joke. Later, he wondered if Ruth had a hand in it, as both a torment to him and a perfect match for their daughter. Whatever the reason, Tempe sat across the table from him, eating slowly, and Max knew a lot of that was due to the man she was trying to avoid. Max had never seen two people more suited for each other who did everything possible to make sure they didn't end up that way.

Still, he knew Tempe needed to settle this situation with Booth before it grew even further out of control. He was the anchor his daughter needed to actually start living. Science was interesting, but it wasn't a life. And, he hadn't given up the hope for grandchildren just yet.

So after the meal was complete, but while they were still at the table, Max pulled an item from his pocket.

"What is that?" Brennan asked suspiciously as Max placed it between them.

"Burner phone," Max explained. "Don't give me that look, it's almost untraceable."

Leaning back in her chair, Brennan crossed her arms. She didn't know why she was surprised, given her father's history. "Almost?"

Max shrugged. "The Titanic was unsinkable and it sank. It's a good lesson in why you shouldn't speak in absolutes. Besides," Max continued as Brennan reached for the phone, "you do have Angela."

"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "We do have Angela." Brennan flipped the phone open and closed several times before placing it back on the table without powering it on. "What am I going to do with the phone we aren't supposed to have?"

"Call Booth," Max said. He knew she only asked to have something to say.

Max was surprised she didn't jump from the table and run from the room, given the look that crossed her face. "I can't do that."

Reaching out, he pushed the phone toward her. "It texts, as well. Do that instead."

"And tell him what?" she asked, not dismissing the texting idea immediately. Max took that as a good sign.

But his answer to her question was a shrug. "I think you know that man better than anyone else. Tell him what you think you should. Tell him nothing. That choice is yours, Tempe."

She sighed and turned her head toward a window that faced the road. Max sat patiently and waited her out, knowing her mind was working through scenarios before making a decision.

Finally, she reached out and took the phone from the table. "Should I power it off when I'm done?"  
Max rose to start clearing the table. "The answer to that question depends on whether or not you want Booth to find you."

Torn by an indecision she wasn't used to, Brennan carried the phone around in her pocket as she also rose from the table and helped her father clean the kitchen. In the end, without another word, she put the phone back in the center of the table and disappeared up the stairs.

"Damn," Max muttered when she was out of earshot. A hand rubbed over a weary face as he considered his options, wondering if he really had any to consider.

In the end, he felt it boiled down to two. Leave his daughter to stew over her mistakes, upstairs, fighting battles alone just as she had much of her adult life.

Or force her to face what was right in front of her. One call was all it would take to get Booth to their cabin.

But could Max make that choice, knowing the decision could easily cost him the tenuous relationship with his daughter? She'd trusted him enough to call for help, something that happened so rarely, he could count the times on one hand. Could he break that trust?

At the same time, could he allow his daughter to break her own heart? The years with his wife had been some of the best of his life, and he wanted the same for Tempe. She deserved the world, and right at that moment, Max wasn't sure if he was giving it to her or taking it away.

"Shit," he swore again, leaving the phone on the table to take another walk around the perimeter of the property.

The night air was cool and Max could hear the echo of an owl not far from the cabin. It was a lonely sound in an otherwise quiet night and it did nothing for his mood.

As he rounded the corner toward the back, he wasn't surprised to see the small balcony empty this time around. Instead, he could see light behind shades that had already been pulled for the evening. His daughter was safe, behind doors Max made sure were safely locked.

But she wasn't happy.

A hand slapped against the side of his leg as he once again considered his options. And after flipping a coin in his head, and weighing the pros and cons, Max tried to come to a decision. And without knowing it, went with something Booth would have appreciated.

His gut.

Finally making a decision made him want to pick up the pace. A past that never quite left him behind forced Max to take his time and finish the walk. Satisfied that all was well, he returned to the house and secured the door behind him.

But when he went to get the phone from the center of the table, it was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

Booth's phone rang a little after midnight, but it didn't wake him. Since returning and seeing Bones, he'd had trouble falling asleep each night, his mind unable to turn off.

Since finding out she'd written letters he'd never received, sleep had been as elusive as a winning lottery ticket.

And if he was honest with himself he was angry. Angry that Bones had chosen to run away for the weekend rather than talk to him. Angry with himself for not insisting she tell him the truth about what was going on, why she'd brought Craig him with her.

A steady hand reached out and grabbed his phone from the arm of his chair, where he'd sat staring at sports highlights that played on an endless loop.

"Booth."

"Hey, Booth, it's Ramsay. Sorry for the late hour, but I got the impression that this was important."

The recliner banged as Booth sat up. "You have them?"

"One," Ramsay said. "I have one. Believe it or not, it showed up in my office today. This is the first chance I've had to call you."

"Where-" Booth started, before changing his mind. "Never mind. I don't care where it was or where it came from. Can you overnight it to me?"

At his end, Ramsay desperately wanted to confirm to him what was so important about a single letter. Ramsay had a pretty strong theory, but wasn't sure he should ask. "I actually did that earlier today," he admitted. Something in Booth's voice during the previous conversation had nagged him and he'd taken the time to send the letter on when a million other things had been waiting for him.

"So tomorrow?" Booth asked hopefully. "I should have it tomorrow?"

Ramsay snorted. "Yes, Booth, tomorrow. I don't remember you ever being so anxious about anything." In the background, Booth could hear a steady tapping noise and knew Ramsay was hitting his desk with a pen. "I know you didn't ask, but this letter was almost destroyed, or at least the envelope was. Followed a rather convoluted route to end up in my office. To be honest, it shouldn't have happened the way it did. I don't understand it myself."

"It doesn't matter," Booth said dismissively. "The important thing is one of them turned up."

At his end, the corner of Ramsay's mouth turned up slightly. "You're in love with this woman, aren't you?" When Booth didn't answer right away, Ramsay continued. "The next time I'm in town, I'll give you a call. You can buy me a beer and tell me the whole story."

"That sounds fair," Booth agreed. They made small talk for several more minutes until duty called and Ramsay was forced to hang up.

"Thank you," Booth said softly to whatever god or guardian angel had located one of those letters for him. He looked across the room toward the clock, calculating the number of hours he'd have to wait for that single letter.

And if he should open it when it came. Because a part of him wanted Bones to say those words to him, whatever they were, face to face. She had the chance now, Booth just wished she'd take it.

He had no illusions that finding those letters would fix things between him and Bones. He still wasn't entirely sure things were fixable. But with the information written there, he would at least know what he was dealing with.

Communication had never been their strong suit. Booth sincerely hoped this would start to change that, or at least make it a little better. One of these times, their failure to actually talk to each other was going to cost them.

If it hadn't already.

BbBbBb

The phone rested in front of her folded legs. She'd only taken it to prevent her father from doing something crazy. Not sure she totally trusted him, Brennan wouldn't put it past him to call Booth and let him know where they were.

Not that she wasn't considering doing that very thing herself. She just wanted it to be her decision, not her father's or anyone else's.

It was time to stop running. Time to do what she should have done months ago: actually have a conversation with Booth. It was up to her to tell him she'd made a mistake, changed her mind, become more brave, or any of the other thousand ways she could use to explain it.

Did she love him?

Yes. At least, as sure as she could be about an emotion she had, until recently, not entirely believed in.

Was that enough for Booth? Was she enough for Booth?

All of the things he'd said and done for her over the years said that it was.

Sighing, Brennan rose and moved to the window, pulling the slats of the shades apart just slightly. She looked out just in time to see her father round the corner of the house, checking up on her, she was sure.

It comforted her, knowing that there were people that were there for her no matter what.

Turning, she grabbed the phone, opening and closing it several times nervously. All of the power to fix this was in her hands, if she only had the courage to do it.

She'd had enough six months ago to write him, to tell him she'd made a mistake the night outside Sweets' office.

Another mistake had been made with Craig. But the perceived rejection had been too much for her to work through. That mistake was remedied.

It was time to try to fix this one.

Opening the phone, she pretended her hand was steady as she dialed the familiar number.

BbBbBb

When the phone rang a second time, Booth picked it up without checking the caller. "What did you forget, Ramsay?"

"Booth? Who's Ramsay?" came the tentative voice at the other end and for the second time, the recliner came down.

"Bones?" he asked, shocked to hear her voice. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

He barely heard the small snort of laughter. "I'm fine, Booth," she reassured him. "I suppose I should be glad you didn't ask if I was happy. I'm with Max," she said generally, not able to tell Booth exactly where they were. She hadn't paid enough attention on the way up to be able to relay accurate directions.

That was the reason she'd made the call though, to at least let Booth know where she was. Max was going to have to help her again.

Booth barely stopped himself from saying that he already knew that. But Brennan's comment made it clear Max hadn't spoken of their earlier conversation. "You haven't seen him since you left. It's good that you're spending some time with him." He wouldn't pressure her, no matter how much he wanted to.

Tell me where you are, he wanted to beg. Yell at me, fight with me, but don't shut me out.

"Really?" Brennan asked, not sure she believed what he was telling her. "I thought you'd be more upset that I left."

A hand ran through his already disheveled hair. "I'm not happy you left, Bones, but I understand you needed some time to think." Rising, Booth began to pace, before heading toward his bedroom. He had no reason to do so, but he pulled out his overnight bag and began to fill it.

She'd called at this time of night for a reason and he was going with his first impression.

"I think we…I think I'm ready to talk. If you are ready…to talk," she explained.

"I think that's a good idea," Booth agreed calmly. "Are you returning to DC?"

"On Monday," Brennan said quickly. "I'm not coming back until Monday."

Booth sighed. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. Screw the damn letter Ramsay was sending. He'd leave it all behind to talk to Bones face to face.

At her end, Brennan remained silent as she rose and headed down the stairs. At the bottom, her father sat at the table. In front of him was a deck of cards and Brennan knew he'd been doing some thinking of his own.

Tell him, Max silently willed his daughter. He didn't want to make the decision for her.

But he'd already decided to go and purchase a third phone in the morning if Tempe didn't make the call herself.

Some things were too important to not interfere in. Max was willing to risk the relationship with his daughter for this.

To think he'd go to so much trouble for a man who'd once arrested him. It boggled the mind.

Booth finished throwing a small variety of clothes in the bag before heading toward his bathroom. "Are you still there, Bones?' he asked, reaching for the kit he always kept ready. She'd said she wasn't coming back until Monday, but still he packed. If he was desperate enough, Angela could trace this call.

Unfortunately, involving her seemed like a mistake. Booth sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Brennan stared at her father as she came down the stairs. "I'm here," she finally said to Booth, "but I'm going to go for now."

"Wait!" Booth practically shouted, but he could hear shuffling in the background and knew she'd already taken the phone away from her ear. Frustrated, he slapped an open palm on the counter of the sink.

Still, he waited to hang up, because while she'd said she was leaving, she hadn't ended the call. He could hear various words in the background. One sounded like morning. After what felt like an eternity, Max came on the line.

"You still there, Booth?" Max asked gruffly.

"I'm here."

"Good," Max said, the approval clear in his voice. "Get a sheet of paper. Tempe wants me to give you the address." Max raised an eyebrow and glanced at his daughter before she nodded. "And, " he added, "she is adamant that you not drive here until morning. She doesn't want to worry about you falling asleep behind the wheel or getting lost and having to come find you."

"I was a Ranger. I don't get lost," he grumbled, but her request worked perfectly for him. It would give him time to wait for the delivery he was expecting. "I'll be there tomorrow, Max."

Booth threw the paper with the address on top of his bag. "Booth," Max said into the silence, "don't screw this up."

BbBbBb

He managed an hour or two of sleep, just so he could tell Bones he'd gotten some. By six, he was up and showered, staring out the window waiting for the delivery. His bag was loaded in the SUV, and his hand went frequently to his pocket to check for his keys. Booth had a recurring worry that he'd go to leave and wouldn't be able to find the keys, further delaying his departure.

It was a little past eight when the van finally pulled up in front of the building. He barely took the time to lock his door behind him before meeting the rather surprised man in the lobby. Sure the request to show identification was some secret plan to slow him down, Booth illegibly signed his name and took the envelope. The man was staring in shock at the rather large tip he'd received as Booth disappeared out the door.

Booth wanted to stop and read it, to solve the mystery of what Bones had wanted to tell him so many months ago. But he kept driving instead. If it was bad news, he didn't want to know it. He'd force Bones to say those words to his face.

But he was sure it wasn't bad news. All of the clues, the things that had happened the past few days, led him to believe that letter and the one that would forever remain lost, said that she wanted to be with him.

It had to.

Max said the drive would take about two hours. Booth hoped to shave some of that time off. Now that he was on the road, the desire to get to Bones was almost impossible to deal with.

BbBbBb

"He'll come," Max reassured her for at least the tenth time. "Standing at the window watching for him won't make him get here any faster. You are the one who insisted he wait until this morning."

Brennan turned with a small smile. "You make me sound like a child when you say things like that. And it's been scientifically proven that water boils in the same amount of time whether you watch it or not."

With a chuckle, Max handed his daughter her second cup of coffee. "When Booth gets here, I'm going to take my leave. The only thing I ask of the two of you is that you keep the location of this place a secret."

There was a hint of panic in her eyes at the mention of Booth, but she chased it away with an impromptu hug. It was so unexpected, Max almost dumped his own cup of coffee down the front of her. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered before quickly pulling back.

It had been awkward and quick, but for a brief second, Max was afraid he was going to cry. "Anytime, Tempe," he said gruffly before turning and heading back toward the kitchen to clean things up. "Depending on how things go," he called back, "you and Booth are welcome to stay until Monday morning."

"You're sure the friend won't care?" she asked her tone making it clear she knew exactly what kind of friend it was. "He won't need to hide out here before then?"

Brennan chose to ignore the implication that she and Booth would spend the rest of the weekend together. Even if there was a second chance for the two of them, Brennan wasn't sure sleeping with Booth was the next logical step to take.

"No, he won't need it." Max retrieved his bag from the bedroom and headed out the front door with it. "Maybe you should just sit here on the steps and wait for him. Then you'll be able to hear the car coming."

Since giving Booth the address, Max had watched some of the stress leave his daughter. While still nervous, clear from her refusal to walk away from the window, Max thought she seemed more settled, and hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, the two of them would finally figure this out.

"I'm fine where I am, Dad," she said. He opened the trunk and tossed the bag inside as she watched. "How many phones do you have in there?" she asked curiously.

He turned and smiled. "None now," he hedged. The gun was safely tucked in the duffle. When he was out of view of the cabin, he'd stop and hide it again. It wasn't exactly legal, but she didn't need to worry about that.

She took the phone from her pocket and tossed it to him as he turned. No words were spoken as he removed the battery and smashed the phone beneath his feet.

Not sure that it was totally necessary, she sipped her coffee, but didn't comment. Her father would do what he thought was best and nothing she said would change that.

Max motioned with his hand. "How about you come and sit on the steps with me and we'll both pretend you want to spend time with me and not listen for Booth?"

She sighed, knowing fighting him was a losing battle. "Fine, Dad."

So they sat, in a comfortable silence, listening to the birds sing. Brennan eventually talked about some of the digs she'd been on over the years and Max couldn't help but be amazed at all the things she'd seen during her life.

It seemed to Max that Booth appeared almost out of nowhere. He'd been so intently listening to Brennan's story that he didn't hear the vehicle until it pulled into the driveway. He chastised himself silently for being so inattentive to his surroundings.

"Good luck, Tempe," he said softly, squeezing her shoulder as he stood.

Her panicked blue eyes turned to him as she also stood. With a nod Max hoped was reassuring, he stepped toward his own vehicle, forcing her eyes down the driveway.

But before he made it to the bottom of the steps, she hugged him one more time. This time, he was quick enough to hug her back. "Call me," he ordered.

She watched as her father and Booth shook hands before Max backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.

Her fingers tapped her leg nervously as Booth reached back into his car, bringing out a large bag.

"I brought take out," he said with an unsure smile.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Sorry for the delay. Softball games and a broken freezer took over my life last week._

 _As usual, I don't own Bones._

He left the envelope on the front seat of his vehicle, hoping Bones would open up on her own.

He'd worried, more than he cared to think about, on the way to the cabin and was glad to see she looked steady. Booth wasn't sure the same could be said about him.

"There's a picnic table around back," she said. "Even if it is a little early for take out." She waited until Booth approached her before leading him behind the cabin. "Where did you ever find a place open this early?"

"It's not the city that never sleeps, but there are always places open if you know where to look." The food was placed in the center of the table, but he didn't sit. Instead, he stepped past it and looked off in the distance. "Quite the view," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning against a tree.

Brennan paused as she unpacked the food and looked at his back. "Dad said that he and mom came here a long time ago, I'm guessing after they left us." The tension was clear in the set of his shoulders and the way he played with the items he always kept in his pocket.

Feeling a similar tension herself, Brennan sighed. Evidence suggested, at least to her, that most of this was her fault and she didn't know how she felt about that. Unhappy, guilty, disappointed. So many emotions and no time to work through them.

"You okay, Bones?" Booth asked, turning at the sound of the sigh. No matter what happened between them, he always worried about her. But now that he was here, Booth didn't know where to start. Didn't want to be the one to start. He had so many questions he wanted to ask.

So many things that needed to be said for them to take a step away from this entire mess.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, pushing a carton of food away from her. The smell was turning her stomach, which was already in knots. The list was right there in her head, all of the things she'd done wrong. "I shouldn't have said no. I shouldn't have signed up for Maluku. I shouldn't have said yes to anything Craig asked. I should have-"

"Stop," Booth interrupted firmly. "If you want to start with lists of things we've screwed up over the last several years, it will be weeks before we get back to work."

Pulling a box back toward her, Brennan started to shred the corner into little pieces. "What do you want to start with?"

"The letters," Booth said immediately. "Tell me what was in those damn letters. I need to hear what you wanted me to know."

Booth expected her to hesitate. To avoid the question and all of those that would come after. He figured he'd have to cajole and push until she was so exhausted she'd finally give up.

He'd spent a good majority of the drive coming up with arguments to convince her.

In the end he wouldn't need any of them.

Without looking up from the box she was slowly destroying, Brennan started to speak, so softly at first her voice was almost inaudible.

"Dear Booth, I hope this letter finds you well. Forgive me if I don't come across as clearly as I'd like. Usually I talk about these things with you first, to make sure what I want to say is correct, but since you aren't here, I can't do that."

He took an involuntary step toward her, loathe to interrupt, but needing confirmation on the conclusion he'd suddenly come to. "You memorized it?" he asked, not sure why he was surprised.

The nod was so subtle, he barely saw it. "I wrote it and then reread it for three days straight before I sent it out. The second was shorter, but essentially the same. I just eliminated some of the less important stuff about my dig. I was reciting the second letter, since that's what I assume you wanted, just the important stuff." She tore her eyes away from the box long enough to look his way, before looking down again. "Was I wrong again?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I want to hear everything that you've done the last year, Bones. But right now, you are probably right to stick with just the other stuff."

Thinking about the letter waiting on the seat of his SUV, Booth struggled not to shake his head. He thought she'd give him the gist and later, or maybe never, he could read the actual words she'd written. It should have occurred to him she'd remember exactly what they said.

"When I told you on the steps of the Hoover that I couldn't be the woman you needed, I thought I was making the right decision for both of us. I didn't feel I could give you what you needed. I was wrong."

She hadn't realized he'd come closer until he gently pulled her head up toward him. Surprised, she blinked up at him. "I don't understand why you keep fighting," she said.

He pulled his hand back and sat next to her on the bench of the picnic table. She remained with her feet under the table, while he turned the opposite direction, leaning back so he could see her easily. "Was that in the letter, too?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about those anymore. It was foolish to send them," but as soon as the words left her mouth, she shook her head a second time, even harder. "No," she corrected, "it was foolish not to wait for a response. Even though I thought no response was a response."

Her feet came around as she twirled neatly and faced the same direction he was. "I was so confused. I still am confused."

"About why I keep fighting?" Booth asked, giving her a sideways glance. "Do you mean in wars, or do you mean for us?"

"You fight in wars because you want to make the world a better place," Brennan said succinctly, no doubt in her voice. "It's the kind of man you are, to want to help people. Your brother, the military, your job. It will always be who you are."

"So," Booth said, ignoring the simple pleasure that came from her description, "you don't understand why I keep fighting for you? Really, Bones? You don't think you're worth fighting for?"

She shrugged. "Who ever has?" she asked sadly.

"I have," Booth said, jumping to his feet, needing to move. "I wormed my way into your life after that first case, when you made it pretty clear you didn't want to see me again. I fought a gambling addiction, still fight it, to be the man you need me to be. To be the man I want to be for you. I've watched you date losers and colleagues, waiting for you to notice the great guy standing right next to you. I fight for you, for us, every single day because some day I hope you'll look at me the same way I look at you."

"Booth-"

"No, wait," he said, waving a hand in her direction, "I'm not done."

She closed her mouth and waited for him to continue.

"So finally I said the words, awkward as they were, but who cares about that, because you of all people should understand that the words don't always come out right, and you said no. And I thought, okay, that's it. Then I thought about chasing you when you signed up for Maluku, but I figured you needed some time away from me, so I made my own plans."

"Dangerous plans," Brennan mumbled. She'd hated every single time that stupid satellite phone rang in camp, sure it was someone calling to inform her Booth had been shot or captured or killed. The possibilities had been endless and she'd conjured them all in the darkest hours before dawn.

Her hate for the phone had become almost unbearable and for months, she'd refused to enter the tent it was housed in.

He whirled when she spoke and stalked toward her, using firms hands on her arms to haul her to her feet. She met his eyes and didn't pull away.

"I had email," he said, shaking her gently, before releasing her to step back again. It was a mistake to touch her in anger, even if he had no intention of ever hurting her. But he'd never live with himself if she thought he would. "There was a phone. There were so many ways to get an answer. For me to send you a message. Did you really believe that if I had received either of those letters, that I wouldn't have answered them?"

Brennan waited, watching the storm rage in his brown eyes. Eyes that turned to black when he was angry. She'd only ever had them directed at her a few times and realized she didn't like it any better now than she did then.

"I want to know why, out of all the choices you could have made, you picked the one that involved sleeping with another man?"

"I didn't sleep with him," she corrected immediately. "Despite what I may have suggested, I didn't sleep with Craig. I wouldn't even call it dating."

His eyes narrowed and he fought to slow his breathing. "It doesn't explain why you made the choices you did. It doesn't explain why I spent years fighting for us and you gave up so easily."

"Gave up?" she echoed in disbelief. "You think I gave up? I don't give up on anything."

"You gave up after two unanswered letters. You didn't even try anything else. What would you call it?" He hadn't meant for the conversation to go like this, but once he started, everything was pouring out of him like water. The frustration, the anger, everything he'd thought in the last week.

He watched, still within arms reach, every emotion pass through her eyes. He recognized them all, until the last one.

"Fear," Brennan said, and Booth realized it was the one he couldn't identify. "It was fear. Someone told me once that two people have a moment and if you aren't careful, you'll miss your chance. After I told you no, and then you didn't answer my letters, I thought we'd missed ours. I gave up on us, at that very moment, because right then it was the only way I could protect myself."

"You've never needed protecting from me, Bones," Booth said. After all this time, why would she ever think he would hurt her? "Who would you need to be protected from?"

"Me," Brennan said, and this time, when she blinked, there were tears. But she refused to let them fall, because tears wouldn't fix this. And she wouldn't cry to get what, or who she wanted. "Because you talked about forty or fifty years and when I pictured them without you, I couldn't survive it. It was those two weeks all over again. So to survive, you are right, I had to give up. Because to keep hoping for something I didn't think I could have, for a chance that had already passed, was more than I could live with."

Backing up until the bench pressed against her legs, Brennan sat again. She tucked her hands beneath her and hunched her shoulders.

"You had email," she said to her feet. "We had a satellite phone. Each time it rang, I was sure you were dead. I relived losing you a hundred times. Writing you was all I had. I'm sorry it wasn't good enough. There came a point when I couldn't do it anymore. I did what I thought I had to."

Something crunched beneath his feet as he took a step toward her, but she held up her hand to stop him. "Craig was a barrier. Another wall to protect me from feeling too much. Except I looked at you and realized that wall was made of nothing but sand. I didn't understand how I could still feel the way I did when you hadn't responded to my letters. So I used him to protect me from you."

He ignored any motion she made to prevent his forward movement. He stopped in front of her, inching his feet towards hers until their toes touched.

When he held an open hand out to her, despite the fact she'd never lifted her head to see him standing there, she reached her own out and took it.

And when he knelt in front of her, she picked her head up just enough to give him a small smile before throwing herself into his arms.

She never doubted he'd catch her.


	15. Chapter 15

Brennan breathed in the scent of him and fought the urge to burrow deeper into his shoulder.

His arms were so tight it was almost hard to take a deep breath.

She didn't care.

"You'd think," he said softly into her hair, "after all the chances we've had at this, we'd be able to get it right."

Pulling back, Brennan bit her lip before she spoke. "I didn't think I'd ever see that look on your face again. And then, there it was the moment you saw me in DC, and I didn't understand."

His strong hands cupped her cheeks and he brushed at her eyes. "It's okay to cry, Bones."

The shaking motion her head made traveled through his palms and down his arms. "If crying actually got a person what they wanted, you would have shown up in my tent in Maluku. It didn't work then and I don't plan on trying it now." Wriggling free of his arms, she sat lotus style across from him, waiting until he'd settled into a similar position before continuing. "You didn't respond to either letter and I went with that as the evidence I had to show that you didn't want me anymore. But that look…the one…" she trailed off, her eyes shifting from his to off in the distance and back again.

"I look at you like that because I love you, Bones. I have for a long time. Still do," he said with a casual shrug the contradicted the seriousness of the words. "It didn't go away, didn't fade because we were apart."

She nodded, accepting that as truth. But she'd always known he loved her. It was her heart that she'd had a lot harder time understanding. "So now what?" she asked, anticipating and dreading his response.

Again, he shrugged. "I want the same thing I always have, Bones."

"And what is that?"

"You."

His voice, so serious in the early morning light, dared her to deny the truth as he saw it.

And though the words were on her tongue, to disagree and say that love didn't exist or wasn't enough, Brennan did not give them voice.

"Even after all of this?" she said, motioning in front of her, trying to convey exactly what everything was. "Even after the night outside Sweets' office, and time apart, and Craig. Even after all of it?" she demanded, wondering why she doubted it after all of this time. Hadn't he proven over and over again that she was everything he'd ever desired.

"Yes, Bones," he said, his voice filled with both patience and frustration. "Even after everything that has gone on between us, you are all I have ever wanted." Rising, he reached forward to pull her to her feet as well. "Let's walk," he said, pulling her along side him before she could respond.

Her hand was warm in his and after a moment of internal argument, she didn't attempt to pull away. After sitting in the sun, the shade was a cool relief as they started down one of the trails that surrounded the cabin.

"I still love you, Bones," he told her again to emphasize the point. "Look," he said, coming to a stop under a canopy of trees. The sound of his hand rubbing across his chin was loud in the silence. "I love you and I'll always love you. And I'll wait until eternity if that what it takes, but I have to know for sure that we're both working toward the same thing. That what you said in the letter was still true."

"That I still want to be with you?" she asked, wanting to be sure she understood.

Booth chuckled. "Yes, Bones, that you still want to be with me. Even if it's not today or next month. We can go slow. Try a date or two before going beyond that. Whatever you need."

She bit her lip, hard before finally nodding. "It's what I still want, Booth. I think, it's what I've always wanted."

He smiled, the relief evident on his face. "Good. That's real good, Bones. Just don't bring any more guys home with you. Unless their me, of course," he added, shooting a grin her way.

"Only you," she agreed. "Why are we headed back to the house?" she asked curiously. She'd been following where Booth led them and she was curious as to why he changed directions.

"There's something in my vehicle you need to see," he said.

"More take out?" she asked. "We didn't eat what you brought out earlier."

"No," he said, letting go of her hand long enough to retrieve it from the front seat. "This," he said, holding the envelope out to her.

The delivery envelope piqued her curiosity. "What is it?" she asked.

"You do know you can open it to find out. A genius like yourself should know that."

Brennan continued to hold it loosely in her hands. "Why didn't you open it?"

Booth shrugged. "I thought we should talk first."

Realizing he wasn't going to tell her, Brennan ripped the envelope open, only to watch a smaller white envelope fall between them. She uttered a surprised gasp, but didn't bend down to pick it up.

"I guess we know why it didn't get to me," Booth said, making no move to retrieve it either. "Or back to you."

The left corner, where Brennan had written her return address, was gone. At some point after it left her hands, the corner had been ripped away, leaving nothing visible.

"How did it get wet?" Brennan wondered. Because most of Booth's address had been smudged beyond any hope of reading it. All that was left was his name and enough of the remaining letters to indicate it had been sent to a military member.

"What did you use on that island, carrier pigeon?" Finally bending over, Booth picked it up from the ground and handed it to her.

"Carrier pigeons were used during war times, Booth. Never to carry personal mail," she corrected with a grin. "Besides, it could have happened when it was closer to your location. Perhaps a camel attempted to eat it."

"Mail came in vehicles, Bones. I didn't see a camel the entire time I was there."

"Should we open it?" she asked, reaching out to take it from him.

"I don't need to see it," Booth said. "Do you want me to read it?"

She tapped it against her hand. "Maybe, sometime. There is nothing in it I haven't already said to you."

"Then," he said, taking it back again to throw into the SUV, "we'll save it for a different day."

"What now?" Brennan asked. She felt awkward suddenly, not sure of what to say or where to put her hands. In her pockets, all over Booth, there were too many options.

"Hey," Booth said, as he watched her eyes cloud over with anxiety. "Small steps. But I could use a nap."

Taking a deep breath, Brennan forced her shoulders to relax. "The bed is big enough for both of us to share."

Booth stumbled, having already started toward the table to clean up the food he brought. Otherwise, they'd wake up to a bear as a roommate. "I thought we were going slow."

"To nap," Brennan clarified, but the look she gave him was teasing and full of promise. "For now, only to nap."

Booth smiled. "For now," he agreed.

He awoke to find them both on their sides, she tucked tightly against him. For a moment, he was content to simply breath in the scent of her and marvel at the fact she was actually in his arms in a bed they shared, even if they were both still clothed. Eventually, Booth knew now, there would be nothing between them when they shared a bed and he looked forward to the day they would be tucked skin to skin.

Because he knew now they were going to get there, eventually. Probably not this weekend, or even the next, but this year definitely.

He pressed lips to her hair and relaxed more than he had in almost a week. Or a year if he was honest with himself. A year since he'd expressed his feelings and she hadn't been ready. Months since she'd tried to reconnect and the fates she didn't believe in hadn't been ready for them to be together.

Finally, everything and everyone was on the same page.

Her breathing changed, indicating she had also awoken and Booth pulled her tighter against him. "Craig was an idiot," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. "But I can't say I wish he hadn't been. I'm glad he's gone."

The snort she gave was a sound he had never heard her make and he fought to swallow the laugh. "Craig is a highly intelligent scientist, well regarded in his field." He felt her sigh. "But when it came to me, I find that I have to agree with your assessment."

Gentle fingers traced the arm he'd wrapped around her before she spoke again. "No one has ever seen me like you do. I hope you are right about us."

Old anxieties flared at odd moments, and Booth understood that. "I know you don't believe in fate and faith, but I do. I believe enough for both of us. This is right. I'm right. Our home is with each other. That is something I will never doubt."

She shifted to face him and by the time they were both done moving, their heads shared the same pillow and their legs were intertwined. "So we're dating?" she asked hesitantly. But Brennan needed to be sure she understood where they stood before they left the sanctuary that was this cabin.

"We're dating," Booth confirmed, his eyes dancing with an emotion Brennan had seen frequently over their years together. Happiness. He was happy. "You'll bring no more guys home," he declared, his eyes darkening at the thought.

"Agreed, Booth. I have no intention of bringing any guys into my house, with the exception of you, of course."

"Only me," he reiterated, before bringing his head forward to crash his lips into hers. Brennan relaxed into a kiss she would later describe as possessive, and despite her independent nature, she found she quite liked the feeling.

"Only you," she said when he pulled back. "There will never be anyone else for me, Booth. We'll get all those years you promised me on that night."

He pulled her toward him, tucking him under his chin. "That's good, Bones. That sounds perfect."


End file.
